Pedro
by madame.alexandra
Summary: This is the story of Shannon and Kelly Gibbs. It is not case-centric; it's family focused. Gibbs makes a brief appearance; so does Mike Franks. It's a glimpse into the last-few days of their lives. Rated for some violence towards the end. Short MC.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: There isn't much of an introduction to this. Like the summary says, it's Shannon and Kelly Gibbs' story. _

_Camp Pendleton. Oceanside, California. Early February, 1991._

* * *

><p>The day had started off hectic, as had every day since they had uprooted to Camp Pendleton. Today was simply made worse because she had forgotten that the car payment was due and she had promised her daughter a new coat—and she was trying to get off the phone with her mother.<p>

Shannon Gibbs nodded her head distractedly, leaning back in the kitchen to look down the hall.

"Kelly, are you finished with your homework?" she called, covering the mouthpiece.

Right in her ear, Joanne Fielding was going on and on and _on_ about how dismal Christmas had been without them, and trying to force a visit back to DC from her daughter.

"We missed you too, Mama, but he couldn't help it," soothed Shannon. From down the hall, Kelly yelled something about being almost done with a Math worksheet.

"Of course he couldn't help it, dear, but there was no need to drag you and Kelly to California—"

"For the last time, Mama, he didn't drag us anywhere. We _wanted_ to be with him," Shannon said, exasperated.

"Your father and I want to see you and Kelly," Joanne said, ignoring Shannon's defense. "You could fly back for a few days; we can take Kelly ice skating—"

"I'm sure she would love it," Shannon said, wincing. "We just can't afford it. We'll be back in April—"

"Mac and I will fly the two of you back, Shannon," Joanne said firmly.

"No," Shannon shook her head. "Jethro _hates_ it when you do that. Just content yourself with phone calls. Mama," Shannon raised her voice over Joanne's haughty protests. "I've got to go. I promised Kelly—I'm hanging up, Mom. I love you. Kelly loves you—goodbye."

Shannon rolled her eyes, hanging up the phone just as Kelly came into the room with a binder and some papers.

"Was that Grandma?" she asked brightly.

"Mmm-hmm," Shannon nodded, making a silly face. "She misses you."

"Well, I miss Daddy. Tough luck for her," Kelly said in response. "Mom, sign this," she said, pushing a permission slip at Shannon.

"_Please_," corrected Shannon patiently, reading the slip. "Don't disrespect your grandmother."

"Mom, I talked to my teacher today about the Gulf War," Kelly said, crawling up on a kitchen chair and kneeling on it, holding some papers. "He says that our country is mad at the Muslim ones because of Israel, and that's why Daddy has to go fight them," she said rapidly. "But I looked it up in the library and watched some news, and if America stopped being so nice to Israel, that bad guy in Iraq would stop attacking the Kowalis and then Daddy could come home—"

"Kuwaitis," corrected Shannon with a sigh. She signed off on the field trip and looked at Kelly tiredly. "Your father is in _Kuwait_," she said again, and then shook her head. "Kelly, please give it a rest."

"I'm just trying to learn about why the President is making him go, and I think if someone had elected the other guy—"

"Kelly," interrupted Shannon with a sigh, passing the permission slip back to her daughter. She walked to the chair and pushed the eight-year-old's hair back, giving her a fond look. "I'm glad you're interested in what Daddy's fighting for," she said slowly, "but it isn't that simple."

Kelly frowned and rolled her eyes. Mom never wanted to talk about the politics or reasons Daddy was at war, but Kelly thought it was interesting. It just seemed to upset Mom, though.

"You want to get a coat or not?" Shannon asked her daughter.

Kelly brightened, her blue eyes shining.

"Can we get the pretty one I saw at the mall last week?" she asked, lips pursed and pleading.

Shannon laughed, stroking her hair.

"As long as it's warm and functional and not just pretty," she agreed, hoping the price wasn't too high. Since she'd left her job in Virginia to move out here while Jethro trained, and then deployed, money had been tight—E7, Gunnery Sergeant income was not spectacular, and the cost of living in California was ridiculous.

"Do you remember which mall we were at?" Shannon asked.

Kelly nodded, hopping off the chair.

"Oceanside," she answered.

Shannon let out a breath. The shops there weren't too bad. She smiled.

"Get your shoes," she said gently.

Kelly scampered off.

"Can we get ice cream?" she yelled from the foyer.

"Kelly, it's February," responded Shannon, giving her absent daughter a look.

California had mild, lovely winters—but it still wasn't ice cream weather.

"Well, fine, can we get hot chocolate?"

Shannon shook her head to herself as she went into the hall and reached for her light coat. She shot Kelly another look and raised an eyebrow, picking up her keys and placing her hand on Kelly's back to lead her out the door.

Kelly looked up at Shannon.

"Because Daddy would get me hot chocolate," she said sweetly, her eyes wide and playful.

"Oh now that's not fair," scolded Shannon lightly. She laughed and shook her head, popping Kelly softly on the behind as they walked towards the station wagon. "Half way across the world, and Daddy is _still_ showing me up…"

* * *

><p>"So, Ashley is going to be Little Red Riding Hood in the play," Kelly was saying animatedly, her eyes fixed on her mother's in the rear-view mirror. "And she's so good at it, she really is. Ashley is going to be a famous actress one day; she's so pretty, too…"<p>

Shannon smiled. Probably the best part of their move to Camp Pendleton was Ashley Wesley, one of the high-ranking officer's daughters. She had become Kelly's closest friend; the two were inseparable.

"Mom," Kelly said suddenly, changing gears. "When do you think the next time we can call Daddy is?"

"Hmm," Shannon said thoughtfully. It had been about three weeks since they had spoken to Jethro. "I don't know, Kelly, I think he's pretty hard to contact right now—but you know what, we can send him another package if you want."

"Well, okay, but I wanted to hear his voice," Kelly said, shrugging a little. Kelly was getting antsy. Daddy had been fighting in the Middle East since before Halloween, and she missed him.

She didn't remember it being this sad and hard and not fun when he went to Panama. Of course, she had been five then and very immature.

"Are you and Dad going to have another baby?" Kelly asked.

Shannon almost wrecked the car.

"Where did you get an idea like that?" she asked, her brows shooting up. She glared at the sneaky little eavesdropper sitting in the back.

Kelly grinned.

"I overheard you guys talking," she said smugly. "But I thought you were going to surprise me for Christmas, so I stayed quiet. I guess you have to wait until he gets back, though, unless you want to adopt a Chinese baby."

"Kelly," Shannon laughed. "Stop reading newspapers," she said. "Stop eavesdropping when your father and I talk."

"You were kissing, too," Kelly said matter-of-factly. "It was _soooooo_ cute!"

Shannon shook her head in amusement. She catalogued some more things to tell Jethro about Kelly; things that would make him laugh. Making a cautious turn on red, she glanced back and noted that Kelly was occupied with a _Discovery_ magazine in the back.

"Do you want a baby brother or sister?" Shannon ventured.

"No," Kelly said seriously.

"And why not?"

"Because I already have to fight _you_ for Daddy's love," retorted Kelly sassily, giving Shannon a look. "Why would I want to fight another brat?"

Shannon laughed again, pulling into the Oceanside shopping center.

"Kelly, I _really_ don't think you have to worry about Daddy loving anyone more than he loves you."

* * *

><p>"Ashley's Dad is going to have a bonfire on the beach next weekend," Kelly said, letting Shannon fiddle with the coat to make sure it was fitting her right. "Do you think we can go?"<p>

"It sounds fun, Kel, but we need to see if we're invited first," Shannon answered, frowning. "Step back and turn around, I think it's a little too tight."

Kelly complied, twirling like a princess.

"We are; Ashley and I are best friends," Kelly said.

"I know sweetheart, but Sergeant Wesley might be planning this for the officers or some upper ranking officials," she reminded Kelly. "Dad's enlisted."

Kelly rolled her eyes, throwing out her arms and modeling the coat.

"It feels fine, Mom," she said, shaking her arms. She pranced forward and twirled around again. "I love it."

Shannon cupped her chin in her hands and tilted her head, eyeing the coat thoughtfully. It was sturdy and just warm enough to keep Kelly cozy without making the winter absurdly sweltering. It would never do if they were in DC, but it was appropriate for the mild coolness here.

She nodded her head.

"It's yours," she agreed.

Kelly squealed and leapt at Shannon, hugging her around the middle.

"Thank you!" she said sincerely, beaming at Shannon.

Shannon smiled and nodded, picking up her purse.

"Take it off," she coaxed gently. "You can wear it as soon as I pay for it."

Kelly nodded eagerly, slipping out of the brand new pink coat and into her old yellow sweater.

"I finished all of my homework earlier," Kelly said slowly. "I was wondering if we could go see the Mission."

Shannon twisted her lips around thoughtfully, laying the new coat at checkout and searching through her purse for her wallet. Kelly had a strange fascination with Oceanside's Mission _San Luis Rey de Francia_.

"I want to see the pepper tree again," Kelly went on. "And Philip at school told me that they filmed _Zorro_ there!"

"You promise me you did _all_ of your homework?" Shannon asked skeptically, thinking of the last few times that had been said and she'd come to find out that Kelly just sweet-talked her way out of Math worksheets.

"_Yes_," Kelly said, annoyed. "I _said_ I wouldn't lie anymore," she reminded her mother, giving her a glare.

"Yes, Kelly, but you've lied twice, so it's hard to believe you," Shannon responded gently. "You understand why I've told you not to lie?"

Kelly grumbled under her breath and crossed her arms, falling silent. She scowled and watched the cashier finish the transaction, her eyes eagerly on the pink coat. Shannon looked at her sideways and nodded her head, handing her the coat as they left the store.

"We can go by the mission," she acquiesced. "But after you're going to practice piano for an hour when we get home."

Kelly wrinkled her nose at Shannon.

"You drive a hard bargain, Mom," she said seriously.

Kelly nodded her head, deciding she wanted to see the mission badly enough to sacrifice an hour to practicing piano. She could probably convince Mom to watch the news with her afterwards, just to see what was going on in Kuwait.

Mom didn't like to watch, and Mom jumped every time the phone rang. But Kelly liked to hear everything she could. It had been almost six months, and in Kelly's opinion, it was time for Daddy to come home.

* * *

><p>The San Luis Rey mission was not particularly crowded or busy on a Tuesday afternoon; there were monks roaming around, a few gardeners—no parishioners or poor. Kelly scampered along ahead of Shannon, exploring the beautifully kept grass and flowers, at peace in the home of God.<p>

Shannon was just relieved she was happy, and had stopped talking about politics and the war and all of the reasons Jethro should be home instead of fighting for people Kelly didn't know or care about. As proud as she was that Kelly was smart and so eager to learn about Jethro's job, it was almost unbearable to hear her talk about it day in and day out.

Particularly when Shannon was trying to get through the days by _not_ thinking about the politics, war, and strife Jethro was embroiled in. She wasn't so interested in what induced the military to take Jethro away from them; she simply supported him and his choice of job and wanted him to come home to her safe.

_That_ was all that mattered.

"Kelly, are you about ready to go?" Shannon asked lazily, pushing her hair back. The sun was setting and it was growing colder quickly. She raised an eyebrow.

"I just want to see the pepper tree," Kelly placated, turning and giving her mother a pleading look. "Then hot chocolate," Kelly said wryly. "Then we can go."

"Hey, you don't make the rules here," Shannon said, rolling her eyes.

"You said we could do hot chocolate!"

"Kel, we can make it at home. Before bed, after piano," Shannon bargained.

"Okay," Kelly shouted back at her, scampering off towards the pepper tree.

Shannon followed at a leisurely pace, smiling. She wondered if their care package had reached Jethro yet—they had sent it for Valentine's Day, but it might get there a few days earlier.

She hoped so. He'd probably run out of the coffee they sent for Christmas, and if she knew Jethro—she knew he would be a pain in the ass to his soldiers if he didn't get more.

While Kelly ran to the pepper tree, Shannon stopped and leaned against one of the Spanish-style walls that ran all around and all in the mission, watching Kelly, admire the famous tree.

She was glad they had decided to stay in California. It was a nice change. They had come to Pendleton with Jethro back in August when he was called up for training—and she had decided she and Kelly would stay until his tour and de-briefing was up in April, that way missing a harsh DC winter and bringing Kelly into some diversity.

Though how much diversity there could be on a military base, she didn't know. There _were_ far more Spanish-speaking individuals here; Kelly was even taking Spanish in her on-base elementary school.

Kelly liked learning the other language. She tried to teach it to Shannon when she was studying for tests, but Shannon never had the time. Jethro, on the other hand, knew Spanish—it was one of those random things about him that she didn't understand. Kelly liked to talk to him in her limited Spanish.

"Mom." Kelly said, gracefully scampering back over. "I plucked a pepper leaf to send to Dad. It can be like a prayer," she said, pressing it into Shannon's palm. She smiled, waiting for approval.

Shannon smiled and nodded.

"We'll send it right before he comes home," she promised. "For safe travels, sound good?"

"Yeah," Kelly agreed, cuddling up to Shannon's side as they turned to trek out of the mission back to where they'd parked.

As the sun was setting, people were leaving the mission for their homes—those that did not board there, at least. Spanish could be heard all over, mixed with English, to weave a beautiful, song-like Spanglish.

They rounded a wall into a small courtyard nearer to the street they'd parked on and Kelly pointed ahead.

"Sailor," she said brightly, leaping forward a little.

Shannon squinted, tilting her head as she followed Kelly's pointing. It looked as if there were a man in uniform near the trees, but she couldn't be sure.

Kelly started to go forward. She was notorious for speaking to strangers if they were in military uniforms.

"Wait," Shannon said seriously. "Kelly, he's not wearing a cover, just wait," she said.

Kelly stopped.

"I can see his dress—" she stopped, in her speech and in her tracks.

Loud voices arose from near the sailor and he held his hands up, slowly reaching behind him. The voices were talking in harsh Spanish—occasionally broken English. The sailor appeared to be arguing, even pleading, with a man in the shadows.

With a shout, the man Kelly claimed was a sailor threw a punch and then turned on his heel and took off. He ran towards Kelly.

Shannon took a few steps forward and grabbed her daughter, dragging her back. She yanked Kelly behind one of the stone benches encircling a landscaped fountain and crouched down.

"Mom!" shouted Kelly, annoyed.

"Kelly," hissed Shannon. She swallowed hard, somehow acutely aware they were witnessing something sinister—she had seen the man the sailor assaulted start after his assailant. "Be quiet. Be very quiet and don't move," she snapped.

Kelly hunkered down, shocked by the tone.

The other man stalked past them like an angry jungle cat, wearing what Shannon assumed was the sailor's cover. He paused, a few feet in front of them, crossed his arms, and moments later, two men dragged the sailor back, his feet limp—his knees scraping the grass.

Kelly gasped, tensing up. Shannon stroked her hair, shushing her quietly.

"Your mistake cost Reynosa ninety grand," growled the man in the sailor's cover, holding up a long, easily identifiable object.

Shannon, eyes wide, pulled Kelly's head into her lap and held her head down, refusing to let her look anymore. The man said something in Spanish and without any hesitation pointed his gun at the sailor and shot him point-blank in the head.

The noise made Kelly jump and she gave a soft squeal, slapping her hands over her head.

Terrified, Shannon held her breath, praying no one had heard Kelly.

The man gave orders in Spanish, prowled around a little, and smacked his hands together—he spit on the ground before he walked away. He disappeared into darkness and Shannon gasped.

The men who had dragged in the sailor had dragged him away—and she figured they'd come back to check the area for witnesses.

"Kelly," Shannon said shakily. "Kelly, come with me."

Kelly, still covering her ears, let Shannon help her up and let herself be guided away, tears welling up in her blue eyes and falling down her cheeks.

"Mommy," she whimpered. "There's blood on my shoe," she said.

Shannon refused to look down until they were out of danger. Bracing her back, she swept all of Kelly's fifty-eight pounds into her arms and carried her into the Mission, walking quickly down the hall until she found a sanctuary.

She went in and sat down in a pew, wrapping her arms tightly around Kelly. Kelly held onto her neck, crying with fright. Wordlessly, Shannon looked at Kelly's white tennis shoes, feeling sick when she saw the bright red blood splattered across the new laces.

"It's okay, Kelly," she soothed gently, kissing Kelly's cheek maternally.

She clenched her fist, crumpling the pepper leaf, and then pressed her palm and the pepper leaf to Kelly's tangled hair, tilting her head up to look at the chapel ceiling.

Shannon didn't know if it was seconds, minutes, or hours that she sat there in shock until she found a priest, found a phone, and called NIS.

* * *

><p>"NIS uncovered a body in a parking lot near the mission."<p>

Shannon looked up as the agent they had been dealing with walked back into the interview room holding some files and a small Styrofoam cup. Agent Kellogg, he was called—and he was tired, but friendly.

Agent Kellogg set down the cup of coffee and lay a large colour photo down in front of Shannon.

"Is this the sailor you saw at the mission?" he asked.

Shannon studied the pictures. She wanted to be sure. For the first time in an hour, Kelly stirred and sat up, leaning forward on her elbows to look. She touched the photo's nose with her finger and parted her lips.

"That's the sailor," she said softly, looking at Agent Kellogg with wide eyes. "He doesn't look as afraid in this picture," she remarked.

Agent Kellogg tilted his head at Kelly.

"You're sure it's him?" he asked.

"Yes sir, I'm sure," answered Kelly politely.

"Mrs. Gibbs?" Agent Kellogg asked Shannon.

Shannon nodded after a moment, lifting her gaze. It had been difficult for a moment to see the bloodied, pale, and defeated face she's watched take a bullet in the face of this handsome, brave Marine—but it was him.

"It's him," she agreed with Kelly, reaching out to rub Kelly's shoulder. "I'd be comfortable swearing under oath," she promised softly.

Agent Kellogg nodded.

"Petty Officer Jacob Kenan," he said quietly. "It will take a few days to confirm a dental match, but with your identification we're fairly sure it is him."

Shannon bit her lip and leaned back, eyeing the NIS agent carefully. She still rubbed Kelly's back soothingly. It was getting later every moment.

"You and your daughter were at the mission just to admire the history, right?" asked Agent Kellogg, pulling out a notepad.

Shannon nodded, and another agent entered the room; younger than Kellogg, but just as friendly looking.

"Can I get you anything to drink, Mrs. Gibbs? Or you, Miss Kelly?" the younger agent asked sincerely.

"No, I'm fine, thank you," Shannon answered.

"Do you have hot chocolate?" Kelly asked, smiling at the newcomer.

"Kelly," placated Shannon.

"Mom, I want some hot chocolate," Kelly began to whine. Shannon shook her head in warning, but the younger agent laughed lightly. He nodded.

"It's okay, Mrs. Gibbs," he said. "We're stocked up on the hot chocolate," he said to Kelly, giving her a wink. "Give me two minutes plus thirty seconds to let it cool," he promised, slipping back out of the room.

Beaming and content, Kelly settled down, sitting Native American style in the big conference room chair. Shannon sighed heavily and turned back to Agent Kellogg.

"Yes, we were visiting," she answered. "Kelly loves the mission."

"It has a really old Pepper Tree," Kelly said, nodding. "It was the first Peruvian tree planted in California. Back in the eighteen hundreds. It's so pretty," she offered. "I wanted to send one of the leaves to my Dad."

"Your husband is deployed?" clarified Agent Kellogg.

Shannon nodded.

"Desert Storm," she said. "He's in Kuwait."

Agent Kellogg sighed and rubbed his head.

"That's tough," he murmured, offering a sympathetic smile. "Can you tell me what you saw, Mrs. Gibbs?" he asked. "The long version, now that we've got the body."

Again, Shannon nodded. She felt like she was doing a lot of useless nodding lately.

"We were walking back to the car when Kelly saw the sailor. She stared to walk towards him, but I held her back—he wasn't wearing a cover, and I wasn't sure what he was doing alone in the shadows," Shannon explained.

"He was arguing," Kelly piped up.

"Arguing?" asked Kellogg.

Kelly nodded.

"In Spanish, and some English. With a guy who was way bigger than him and meaner. He punched him."

Kellogg looked at Shannon, and Shannon just inclined her head positively, confirming what Kelly said.

"He did punch the man," she said, "and then he ran away, towards us. I pulled Kelly behind a stone bench, where we couldn't be seen. The bigger man came after him slowly, and stopped near us," Shannon went on.

"Okay," Kellogg nodded, making notes. He clicked a button on the recorder he had on and looked up. "And next you said—"

"Two cronies dragged the sailor back," Kelly said seriously, her eyes wide.

"Cronies?" asked Kellogg in some amusement.

"Cronies. Movie bad guys. Big, dumb people who just follow orders for money, you know. Cronies."

Kellogg grinned.

"I'd say that's a good description," he said to Kelly, looking at her. "What did the cronies do?"

"Um, they held the sailor in front of the big bad guy. The smart one," Kelly answered, deflating a little.

"Was the sailor walking?"

"No, they dragged him—and then the smart bad guy pulled out a gun, I think, and then Mommy forced my head down and there was a gunshot."

Kellogg nodded and tilted his head, looking back at Shannon.

"From when you put her head down," he said in a low voice.

Shannon took a deep breath.

"She's got it right, Agent Kellogg," she reinforced. "It looked like there was a silencer on the gun, but it didn't work. The Hispanic man shot the sailor in the forehead."

"Point-blank?" asked the NIS agent.

"Point-blank," agreed Shannon grimly. "He had the," she paused, glancing at Kelly. "_Cronies_ drag the body away, and he policed his brass and looked around before he walked off towards the pepper tree, where we'd been."

"Did he come back to the scene?" asked Kellogg.

Shannon lifted her shoulders helplessly.

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "I got Kelly out of there. We went into the sanctuary, and after Father Eric let us call NIS; we stayed there until we met you."

"Understandable," said Kellogg with a shrug. "The area you described appeared to be clean when we arrived," he informed Shannon. "We have it roped off, and we've got forensic teams scouring the area. We think he or his buddies did go back to double check," Kellogg said. "I'd say it's smart you guys got the hell away."

The younger agent came back in with a mug of hot chocolate for Kelly. He set it down in front of her, tapping the edge.

"Boss says you can keep the cup," he said smoothly, pointing the shiny NIS logo printed on it.

Kelly giggled and warmed her hands on the ceramic, smiling at the agent.

"Thank you," she said sweetly, sipping tentatively on the sweet drink. Lifting her brows, she drew her knees up to her chin and peeked over them, still cradling the mug. "Mommy, you didn't tell them what the bad man said," she reminded Shannon simply.

Both agents looked at Shannon expectantly.

Shannon's brow furrowed.

"What do you mean?" she asked. Shannon had been busy desperately trying to keep Kelly from witnessing to the gunshot. She hadn't heard.

"He said that the sailor cost someone a lot of money," Kelly murmured. "And he said something in Spanish but…but I only know slow, proper Spanish, not fast angry kind," she explained. "He called the man a Yankee in Spanish, though."

Kellogg looked at Kelly intently, leaning forward.

"Kelly, do you know _who_ lost a lot of money? If you don't, that's okay, but it would really help if you could remember," he said gently.

Kelly frowned, sipping the hot chocolate again.

"It sounded very Mexican," she murmured. "Ray…Raynees? Ray-no-suh?" she pronounced.

Kellogg's eyes went wide and he stood a little, looking at the younger agent. The younger agent leaned forward on the table and looked at Shannon.

"Ma'am, could you identify the killer in a photo line up?" he asked a little aggressively.

"Yes," Shannon said, stumbling over the word, a little surprised at the atmosphere changed that had taken place.

The young agent turned sharply to Kellogg.

"Get Franks," he ordered, almost excitedly. "Dammit, Kellogg, _go_, she can identify the hit man!"

* * *

><p>Special Agent Mike Franks was busy pouring another cup of crap office coffee and growling to himself about how he'd be home smoking if some bastard hadn't decided to murder a sailor right at quittin' time when another agent came bursting into the room and scared the bejeesus out of him.<p>

"Dammit, Kellogg," barked Franks, shaking scalding coffee off of his gnarled hand and shooting an incendiary glare at one of his team. "You spastic son of a bitch," he swore. He inserted his thumb into his mouth and bared his teeth at Kellogg. "You had better have a good reason for that entrance," he snapped, nodding at the door Kellogg had so violently slammed back against the wall.

Kellogg nodded, catching his breath.

"She can identify the Reynosa hit man," he gasped.

Franks narrowed one eye, holding his hand at an awkward angle, hot coffee searing into it still.

"What?" he demanded sharply.

"The woman who saw the murder at _San Luis Rey_," Kellogg elaborated seriously, his eyes wide. "Petty Officer Kenan? She says she can identify who killed 'im, and her daughter says it was connected to the Reynosas—

"Well, damn, Kellogg, why didn't you say that?" growled Franks, marching past the agent and out of the room.

* * *

><p>Shannon was more and more ready to go home with each passing moment. She was tired, upset, stressed, frustrated, and scared. It was past Kelly's bedtime now and the eight-year-old was fascinated and wide-awake. She didn't understand the mess they were in.<p>

Shannon drummed her hands on the table; her lips compressed, and looked up when the door opened again. This time, an older figure entered—worn-looking, a little unkempt, with a scowl on his face and a no-nonsense persona emanating from him.

He kicked the young agent out of a chair and sat down, slapping a sheet of photos down on the table in front of Shannon and Kelly, curling his knuckles over it and setting down a half-full cup of coffee.

He peered at Kelly sharply.

"You the reason Kellogg made me spill my coffee?" he asked in a growl.

Kelly stared at him, indignant.

"I'm a cooperating witness," she told him seriously.

"Well, are you now, little Miss," muttered the older Agent, opening his palm. "I'm Mike Franks, guy in charge," he said roughly. "Who're you?"

"Kelly Michelle Gibbs," Kelly answered nicely, placing her palm in Mike Frank's confidently. She leaned forward on the table, cradling her mug. "If you're in charge, does that mean you gave me the mug?" she asked curiously, holding it up.

He turned and glared at Donaghy, his newest recruit, for placing such a nice gesture on his shoulders. Then he turned back to the little girl.

"Guess it does," he agreed. "Don't feel special," he added. "I give 'em to all the witnesses, but I take it back if you're no help."

"Excuse me," Shannon spoke up, narrowing his eyes.

For the first time, he turned his attention to the charming little girl's mother, eyeing her guardedly. She was a comely thing, with long red hair and wide, bright blue eyes. She was pale, and looked both young and old.

"Yeah?" he asked her gruffly, arching his brows.

"You won't get what you need from her by being so rude," Shannon spoke up defensively, leaning forward to rest her hand on Kelly's shoulder. "She's only eight. She's doing her best."

Franks spread his arms out.

"I ain't even asked her anything," he said bluntly, shrugging. "I'm jus' tellin' her like it is," he said. He pointed at the mug. "Gonna take it back if you get my question wrong, you hear?" he said again.

Shannon glared at him, but Kelly giggled, burying her nose in the cup and nodding amicably.

Mike Franks tapped the sheet of photos he had laid down on the table and cleared his throat.

"Kellogg here says you can identify Petty Officer Kenan's killer," he said gruffly. "Can you?"

Shannon frowned skeptically.

"You don't have any leads," she said slowly. "You expect me to look through pages of past offenders and possibly find someone?" she asked.

"No ma'am," the young agent—Donaghy, he'd been called—spoke up. "You—"

"Pipe down, pipsqueak," snapped Franks, glaring at the probie. He turned back to Shannon and Kelly. "You're little one here says the killer mentioned the Reynosa cartel—"

"Yeah," Kelly said, pointing at Franks. "That's how you say it. In the Spanish way, I couldn't make my tongue do that," she said. "Say it again, Agent Franks," she ordered.

Kellogg and Donaghy snickered, while Franks looked caught off guard.

"Reynosa," he complied roughly.

"It's pretty when he says it," Kelly remarked.

"Yeah, real pretty, Boss," said Donaghy under his breath.

Franks glared at him, and then eyed Kelly warily.

"They ain't a pretty bunch, little lady," he said grimly, sliding the photos forward. "If you say he mentioned Reynosa, then he's their hit man. We had Petty Officer Kenan gleaning information about a Navy drug ring," Franks explained. "Figure he was outed. If you say you could recognize him, we can bring 'im down in court—or flip him for a big catch."

Shannon leaned forward, placing her hands on Kelly's shoulders as she scrutinized the paper.

"Mommy," Kelly said after a moment, moving forward.

"Be sure, Kelly," Shannon breathed, focusing on who she thought it was.

"I am sure," Kelly said. "I saw his eyes before you put my head down."

Shannon put her finger on a man to the left, in a lower row.

"Him," she said.

Kelly nodded eagerly.

"_Him_," she agreed, touching her mother's finger.

Three agents leaned in. Franks leaned back and covered his mouth, making another growling noise in the back of his throat. He frowned, so Kelly frowned.

"Was I wrong?" she asked forlornly.

"Nah, you're right," Franks said roughly. "That's him."

Kelly started to smile, then shook her head.

"Why are you sad, then, Agent Franks?" she asked

Franks sat forward, looking briefly at Donaghy and Kellogg.

"He's a real bad guy, Kelly," Franks said grimly.

He sat back again and then looked at Shannon, a frown etched on his worn face. The other agents shifted silently, waiting for orders from their leader. Kelly sat back, frowning a little herself.

* * *

><p>Shannon sighed as she watched Kelly wash her hands. She rubbed her forehead again, looking at her tired reflection in the NIS bathroom mirror. Hours ago, she had thought it was a wonderful decision to stay in California for the duration of Jethro's deployment; now she was thinking it was just bad luck.<p>

Now she simply wanted to take Kelly home—_real_ home, DC home. This situation was starting to sound very precarious, and she couldn't seem to get that across to Kelly. Kelly just thought this was cool. Shannon was worried she was experiencing some sort of trauma—she had to be. There was no way _Kelly_ could be fine when Shannon just saw that poor soldier's terrified face every time she blinked.

"Mom, why are you just standing there, _move_," Kelly said in a rush, prodding Shannon's hip insistently. She slipped past Shannon and bounded out the door; Shannon went after her.

Kelly scampered off.

"Kelly Michelle do not _run_ in this building—" Shannon stopped with a cringe as an older man came around a corner and Kelly stumbled into him, caught off guard. This gave Shannon time to catch up; she rested a reprimanding hand on Kelly's shoulder.

"Oops," Kelly murmured, frowning.

"What do you say?" murmured Shannon.

"Excuse me," Kelly complied politely, smiling apologetically. "I really am sorry."

The elderly man smiled and patted her head fondly.

"Quite all right, my dear," he soothed in a friendly Scottish brogue. "It's not enough that I see happy children around _this_ building," he mused, moving past her. He nodded in a spritely way at Shannon. "Beautiful child," he complimented.

She smiled, turning to thank him—but his attention was drawn away. The young agent from before, Donaghy, ran up to him, holding papers.

"Doctor Mallard…" Donaghy began, trailing off as they walked away.

Shannon led Kelly back to the bullpen where they had been waiting, and Agent Kellogg and Mike Franks looked at them as they entered.

"Have a seat, Mrs. Gibbs," Kellogg offered in a gentlemanly manner, offering her a desk chair.

Shannon demurred, but Kelly hopped up, kneeling in the seat and looking with interest at the bulletin boards, filing cabinets, and boxes of case material all around.

"Mom, do I have to go to school tomorrow?" Kelly asked out of the blue.

"Yes," Shannon answered automatically, looking at her, bewildered. "Kelly, _why_—"

Kelly held up a clock and tapped the time with a smirk.

"It's almost _eleven_," she said excitedly. "My little body won't get enough _sleep_," she said smugly.

Shannon frowned, but Mike Franks snorted with laughter.

"I like the way you think, kid," he said approvingly. He walked over, snatching something off of the desk. "The two of you just have s'more paperwork," he told Shannon, taking a pen from his coat pocket. "Then Kellogg is gonna drive you home, and we'll bring you back day af'er tomorrow for an update."

Shannon took the pen he was offering.

"My car is still parked at the mission," she said, protesting reluctantly.

"Don't worry 'bout that," Franks said in his rough way. "I'll have someone drive it to ya," he explained. "You in base housin'? Pendleton?" he asked brusquely.

"Ah, yes," Shannon said, looking around. "Let me just give you the address—"

"Gonna need your keys, too," Franks said. He pointed at Kelly. "Smarty-pants here can give me the address, I hope," he said, squinting an eye at her.

Kelly hopped off the chair.

"I can!" she said, putting a hand on her hip.

"You'd better," he said. "I only let smart girls sit at my desk," he growled, beckoning to her. Kelly giggled and went after him.

"What about your wife, Mr. Franks?" Shannon heard her ask.

"Don't have one, I got a huntin' dog though…"

Their conversation faded as Franks led her around the bullpen wall to another area, and Agent Kellogg lowered his voice, going over the paperwork with Shannon.

"You just need to sign some statements, authorize me to drive your car, et cetera," he said. "It's really legal matters, but I thought I'd fill you in a little more on what you saw," he stopped, hesitating.

"Are you asking if I want to hear it?" asked Shannon, reading over the vehicle release.

"In a way," Kellogg said honestly. "There could be some danger involved in testifying, if word got out that we have a witness against the Reynosa hit man—"

"What's his name?" Shannon asked. "Agent Kellogg, I'm going to testify, you don't have to worry about that. I may not want to but," she paused, lowered her eyes. "You said this soldier had a wife?"

Kellogg nodded.

"Wife, and two little boys," he said grimly.

Shannon nodded. She looked back at him.

"I can't live with myself if I don't testify, then," she said. "That woman probably saw her husband to war and back, just like I have mine, and I won't have her suffer a lack of justice because I'm a little jittery."

Shannon sighed off on the papers, handing them back.

"Is Kelly safe?" she asked firmly.

"Yes," answered Kellogg. "There isn't even word out that Petty Officer Kenan is dead, much less a story about the Reynosas. And if word does get out, we'll protect you and your daughter until the hit man is behind bars."

"Swear to me," Shannon asked.

Kellogg smiled. He nodded.

"Sure thing, ma'am," he agreed, a little bit of the south coming outing him.

Shannon took a deep breath and nodded, looking up a little when she heard Kelly's amused giggle coming from somewhere on the other side of the wall. She pushed her hair back and looked at Kellogg again.

"What is his name?" she asked again. "The hit man."

"Pedro Hernandez."

* * *

><p><em>Happy Birthday to the United States Marine Corp [November 10th, 1775]<em>

_"From the halls of Monteczuma, to the shores of Tripoli..."_

_-Alexandra _


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I portray Shannon&Kelly as Catholic because of a Season2 episode in which Gibbs lights two candles before leaving a Catholic church, presumably in memory of his family. This is a practice I'm familiar with (having been raised Catholic) that is performed to honor/pray for the dead and to help soothe the souls of the suffering. I don't think Gibbs is particularly religious, but I think he would have had the inclination to perform that action if he'd been around Catholic influence. _

_-A week or so later. Early February. 1991._

* * *

><p>Shannon rolled her eyes as Kelly dropped her new coat haphazardly on the floor and scampered off into the kitchen. Shannon picked up the coat, hung it up—like she'd told Kelly to—and removed her own, placing it next to her daughter's. She laid her scarf carefully over it and then slipped off her gloves, following Kelly into the house.<p>

Kelly came back out of the kitchen with a glass of orange juice.

"Mom," she said after a big swallow. "I asked Father Velázquez to bless the rosary I made in Sunday school," she said proudly, holding up the multi-colored rosary crafted out of wooden and plastic beads.

"Is that where you ran off to?" Shannon asked, ruffling her hair. "Goodness, Kelly, I spent _fifteen_ minutes looking for you," she reprimanded lightly. "What do you want for lunch?"

"Hmmm," Kelly mused thoughtfully. "Tomato soup," she decided, moving on quickly. "I want to send it to Daddy."

Shannon nodded, shrugging lightly.

"Okay," she agreed. "We'll send it with the pepper leaf," she murmured. "Kelly, you know your father isn't a big fan of religion," she warned.

Kelly made a skeptical noise.

"Daddy says God saved his life in Panama," she scoffed, ignoring Shannon's well-meant warning.

"Did he now?" asked Shannon, arching an eyebrow. He'd certainly never said anything of the like to _her_.

"He also said God gave him me," Kelly bragged, shooting Shannon a wicked look. "Maybe he thinks he got you from the Devil," she suggested impishly.

"Oh, hush," Shannon retorted with a laugh. "You know _I _see right through your little _angel_ act."

Kelly shrugged, setting her glass on the counter.

"Well, Daddy doesn't," she said, as if that was all that mattered.

The doorbell rang, and sharp knocking followed it.

"I'll get it," Kelly said brightly, turning on her heel.

"No," snapped Shannon, lunging forward to grab her. Kelly looked surprised. She shook off Shannon's arm, frowning. "Let me, Kelly, just humor me," she murmured, patting her daughter's shoulder. "You put your soup in the microwave."

Kelly grumbled, but complied, and Shannon went to the door, wringing her hands.

Visitors made her nervous now, but she believed she had good reason. It had been about a week since she and Kelly had witnessed the murder in Oceanside, and she had not heard much from NIS. They were getting a case together, and they would call her when she was needed.

Shannon took a deep breath as she opened the door.

"Mrs. Gibbs?" asked a familiar voice, before Shannon could even register that she was looking at two NIS agents.

"Yes?" she responded automatically.

"Agent Hawkins," said the man in front, presenting ID. "You remember Agent Donaghy," he added, nodding his head at the young man behind him. Shannon nodded, and Donaghy smiled at her nicely.

"How can I help you?" asked Shannon earnestly, followed by: "Come in, please."

"No, ma'am," Agent Hawkins shook his head. "We need you and your daughter to come with us to NIS," he said gruffly. "Right now, I'm afraid."

"What—" began Shannon, but Donaghy cut her off.

"It's better if you ask questions on the way," he said, a pleading look in his eye.

She folded her arms, about to protest, but changed her mind at the last minute. She picked her coat back up and then grabbed Kelly's.

Something told her she should listen now, and ask questions later.

* * *

><p>So they were back in the interview room from a week ago. This time, it was Agents Hawkins and Donaghy; no Kellogg and no Mike Franks.<p>

Hawkins was just finishing up a handshake, pulling a cigarette from his pocket.

"Reggie Hawkins," he said nicely. "I'm head of the task force that's been overseeing the Reynosa's business," he explained. "I directly deal with undercover work, networking, narcotics. The agents you've met all have some degree of involvement with this cartel."

Shannon nodded, frowning.

Hawkins pulled out a lighter.

"I'm sorry," Shannon said quickly, pointing to his cigarette. "Can you not smoke that in here?"

Hawkins looked at her blankly over the lighter and then sighed, removing the cigarette from his lips slowly. He nodded politely.

"Not a problem, ma'am," he muttered.

"Is Agent Franks here?" Kelly asked, fiddling with the rosary in her lap. She looked up at Hawkins hopefully. "I like him. He talked to me last time."

Hawkins snorted.

"Count yourself among the few," he said. "Agent Franks has been chasing down a lead in Tijuana," Hawkins explained. "Hell, he might be around…"

"Why have you brought us in?" Shannon asked, leaning forward on the table.

"Because of this," said Donaghy, leaning forward with a wince.

He handed a clean piece of white paper to Shannon, upon which was scrawled one neat line, totally in Spanish.

Further down, a translator had put quotes around the English version of the phrase:

"_The little girl is wearing green Mary Janes with black tights."_

Momentarily confused, Shannon read the note again—and then looked at Kelly's outfit with wide eyes.

"Oh my god," she said in a strained voice. She sat forward abruptly. "What is this?" she demanded. "Who _wrote_ this?" she asked, panic rising in her voice.

"What does it say, Mommy?" Kelly asked, leaning forward with interest. Shannon snatched the paper out of her reach.

"You don't need to see it," she said shakily. She glared between Hawkins and Donaghy. "What does this _mean_?"

"It means the Reynosas know we've got a witness," answered Hawkins grimly.

Shannon placed the paper face down and swallowed, turning pale. She closed her eyes a moment and then opened them.

"Is this like a Mafia thing?" she asked. "One of those cases where these Reynosas never get caught because they kill everything in their way, and never get pinned for it?"

Hawkins looked like he didn't want to answer. Donaghy cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"When you put it like_ that_," joked Donaghy feebly.

Shannon glared at him.

"Answer me," she said.

Yes," Hawkins stepped in hesitantly. "Though we weren't expecting the Reynosas to find out we had a witness."

"How did they find out, exactly?" Shannon asked. "No one saw Kelly or me!"

"You spoke to a Father Eric before you called NIS?" asked Donaghy neutrally.

Shannon nodded.

"He found us in the chapel," she said, murmuring. "He was very kind, found a phone for us, calmed Kelly down," she reflected. Shannon narrowed his eyes. "Wait a moment—"

Donaghy nodded and Hawkins rubbed his forehead.

"It appears the mission has been utilized as a smuggling point for some time now," Hawkins explained warily. "Some of the priests and seminarians were evidently involved. The one you spoke to—"

"Agent Hawkins, I told him everything," Shannon interrupted, panic taking over again. "He's a man of God, I don't believe—"

"Now just hang on, Mrs. Gibbs," Donaghy said. "It wasn't the priest you spoke to who gave it away. This Father Eric was merely relating the tale to a nun; he was evidently angry that such an event had taken place and traumatized a child, and wanted to reach out to help your daughter," Donaghy hesitated. "To the best of our knowledge, it was the nun who was connected to the drug cartel."

Kelly sat up, holding her rosary.

"Nuns are good women," she said. "You're probably wrong," she said with sympathy. "I know it's annoying to be wrong, but you are, because nuns are nice. So are priests. They don't help bad people."

The adults looked at Kelly in silence, and Shannon glanced away, shooting a pleading look at one of the two agents. Hawkins cleared his throat and glared at Donaghy. Donaghy jumped to.

"Kelly," he said, standing up, "Why don't I give you a tour of NIS?"

She looked at him suspiciously.

"How come?" she asked. "I want to know what was on the paper. _And_ I want to hear what's going on."

"Kelly," Shannon said calmly. "Go with Agent Donaghy," she coaxed.

Kelly sighed and stood up, placing the rosary in Shannon's hands.

"Here," she said simply, waltzing over to Agent Donaghy. "Do I have to hold your hand?" she asked.

"No," he said with a laugh.

"Good," Kelly said, as he began to lead her out. "What's your first name? I've met you twice now, I think you can tell me."

"It's Patrick," Shannon heard the young agent say, closing the door behind him.

Shannon shot a look at Hawkins.

"He's going to have his ear talked off," she said.

Hawkins snorted.

"Believe me, Donaghy can keep up," he muttered, taking a seat. He turned over the paper with the stalker-ish words on it and frowned, rubbing his chin. "I'm sorry about this," he said sincerely.

Shannon looked distastefully at the paper.

"You say it was a nun who let it slip?" she asked.

Hawkins nodded.

"The Mother Superior," he said sardonically. "She got a minor description from the priest, and contacted her controller. Somewhere along the line, word got to the Reynosas, and then to Hernandez," Hawkins explained. "We have her in custody, but she won't say much. See, we're in the middle of moving to prosecute Hernandez, and then, this…"

He gestured to the cryptic paper and trailed off, gritting his teeth.

Shannon looked at it distastefully again.

"Someone was watching us at Mass?" she asked, wincing. "How do any of these people know where Kelly and I practice?" she asked.

"Still trying to figure it out," answered Hawkins. "We know how the cartel got your descriptions and found out we had witnesses, but we don't know how they got so many details."

Shannon took a deep breath.

"Do you think they know where we live?"

"No," answered Hawkins seriously. "They would have stalked you there," he said with confidence. "Truth be told, they may not even know they have the right mother and daughter. This message is probably a guess, but it's also an attempt to scare you."

"It's working," Shannon said sharply. "They threatened my daughter, Agent Hawkins," she said coolly. "Kelly's not even the one who will testify!"

"There's no threat here."

"It's implied," scoffed Shannon. "And you know it. It's terrifying. What's next, they abduct her? Just to stop me from saying anything?" Shannon shook her head rapidly, her face paling at the thought. "I can't think about it. My husband—" she paused, taking a deep breath. "Agent Hawkins, I love my daughter, more than anything. But she's the center of my husband's world. I can't lose her. We can't lose her."

"Calm down, Mrs. Gibbs," placated Hawkins, holding his hands up. "You're getting ahead of yourself. No one's said anything will happen to you _or_ Kelly."

She compressed her lips. She was taking a bit of the hysterical route.

"Why did you bring us in?" she asked softly.

He shrugged.

"To show you the paper," he said simply. "Figured it was fair. Wanted you to see what you're up against," he informed her.

"I appreciate that," Shannon said. "And of course you want to know if I'm still willing to testify," she said bluntly.

Hawkins leaned back, his knuckled brushing his chin thoughtfully. Slowly, he nodded.

"Your testimony's a big deal," he said seriously. "It's a breakthrough we never thought we'd get. Puts us one step closer to bringing 'em down."

Shannon sighed. She pulled the paper towards her and read the words about Kelly again. She looked at the rosary in her hands, made by Kelly, meant for Jethro, blessed by the goodwill of a priest.

"Honestly?" she asked. "I don't want to," she said. "I don't want to put Kelly in danger," she said slowly. She looked up. "But I don't want to tell her that a murderer is going to get away because her mother is a coward."

"Refusing to testify doesn't make you a coward," Hawkins said.

Shannon smirked a little.

"Do you want me to testify or not?" she asked, amused.

He held out a hand.

"I don't want you to think you were forced into it," he said blankly.

"This Pedro Hernandez," said Shannon, scowling. "He traumatized my child. He dragged us into this. He's the reason Kelly's being exposed to all of the sinister things in the world. I'll testify," she said, and a look of relief crossed Hawkins' face.

She held up a finger in warning.

"But," she said firmly. "I want your word that you will do all in your power to keep Kelly safe. I know you can't promise that nothing bad will happen, and I won't ask you to commit to things beyond your control. But you will promise me that you'll value her life over mine, if the question comes up."

Hawkins looked at Shannon intently for a moment.

"Ma'am, I will do all in my power to keep you and your daughter safe," he agreed. He stood up, holding his hand out to her, as if to escort her out. "If you don't mind, I have to ask you to stay at NIS until we resolve issues regarding protective custody."

Shannon nodded.

"Where do you think we'd go?" she asked pointedly. "_You_ drove us here."

* * *

><p>"Hey, pipsqueak. Don't I know you?"<p>

Mike Franks peered down at the familiar little girl from behind a cigarette, raising his brows at her.

Kelly looked up from the big NIS window, tilting her head at him. A smile lit up her face.

"Agent Franks!" she said brightly. "They told me you wouldn't be here."

"Well I just got back," he said, spreading his arms gallantly. "Whatcha doin' here, missy? Didn't we send you home 'bout a week ago?"

Kelly nodded solemnly.

"Yes sir," she said. "But then Patrick and Agent Hawkins made us come back, after church," she explained. She lowered her voice to a whisper. "The bad guys are after us," she hissed.

"What?" asked Franks sharply, tilting his head. A frown crossed his face. "No one called me," he growled.

"Maybe they didn't want to scare you!" Kelly suggested with a shrug. "Like they're trying not to scare me. I'm a little scared, but _only_ a little. I keep remembering that it's probably scarier to be in Kuwait, but I'd be brave if I was there so I could see Daddy, so then I'm not scared."

Franks stared at her, mesmerized by the fast-talking, loquacious eight-year-old. He shook it off when she trailed off and opened his palm, putting out his cigarette.

"Didn't that hurt?" Kelly gasped.

"Nope," he answered gruffly. "Nothin' hurts after bamboo shoots in the foot."

Kelly stared at him with wide, admiring eyes. She jumped away from the window and inched closer.

"Were you in a war, too?" she asked. "My Dad is in a war right now. He and my Mom won't talk about it with me."

"Ain't nothin' to talk about, kid," Franks said seriously. "War's no fun. You don't worry your pretty head about it," he said, turning to go.

Kelly scampered after him.

"But just because I'm pretty doesn't mean I'm not smart," Kelly said defensively. "I know lots about the war, and President Bush and Saddam Hussein and the Kurds and the oil. I looked it up."

Franks arched an eyebrow and looked down at her.

"What good's that gonna do ya?" he asked. "Shouldn't you be learnin' sewing in school?"

Kelly giggled.

"Agent Franks, that's ancient history—where are we going?" she asked, as he called the elevator.

"I'm goin' upstairs," he said, pointing towards the catwalk. "You're gonna stay put and wait for your Mama."

"Can I go with you? I'm bored. They're talking about protection security or something," Kelly said, rolling her eyes. "Patrick said he'll start coming to school with me."

Furrowing his brow, Franks looked down at her.

"Who the hell is Patrick?"

"Agent Donaghy, silly!"

"Oh. That kid," Franks smirked, and looked down at Kelly. He nodded his head, abandoning the elevator. He wanted to boot her off on her mother before she attached herself to him like a baby leech or something.

Franks led Kelly towards the bullpen.

"We call him Saint Probie 'round here…"

* * *

><p>"We'll have an agent at your house at all hours," Hawkins explained. "Agent Donaghy will escort Kelly to school—he'll drive her, walk her, whichever she prefers. Agent Kellogg is going to be in charge of security, and I'll be his superior—working the case."<p>

"What about Agent Franks?" Kelly asked, busy twirling about in Frank's desk chair.

She winked at Mike Franks, wrapping and unwrapping her rosary about her fingers.

"Franks won't be involved with your security," Hawkins said, clearing his throat. "He deals with murder victims and post-mortem investigation."

"Sorry, kid," said Franks absently, busy studying the mother.

She wasn't a very talkative broad. She seemed put together and smart, and she was real pretty to look at, but she was all kinds of tense and it was nettling Franks. He didn't like tense women. He always felt like they were about to spring at him with a knife, like that one _senorita_ in Mexico…

"We'll keep you informed with more information as things come up," Donaghy spoke up from his desk, looking up from a computer. "Trial dates, the usual boring stuff," he said, grinning at Kelly.

"Everything seem good?" asked Hawkins.

Shannon laughed shortly.

"I don't know if that's how I'd describe it," she remarked.

Hawkins inclined his head as if he agreed.

Kelly stood up from the chair and went to Donaghy desk.

"Saint Probie—" she began, only to be interrupted by snickers and a frown from Donaghy.

"Kelly!" reprimanded Shannon, furrowing her brow.

"What? Agent Franks said they call him that."

Donaghy glared at Franks.

"Why did you tell her that?" he whined.

"'S funny," retorted Franks with a cackle. He pulled out a cigarette.

"Please don't smoke that," Shannon spoke up automatically.

Franks narrowed his eyes at her. He stepped forward from the filing cabinet he was leaning against and eyed her for a moment before he tossed the cigarette on his desk and jerked his head at her.

"Mind if we have a chat?" he asked.

She glared at him, and nodded curtly.

"Mrs. Gibbs, we're going to fingerprint Kelly while you're gone," Kellogg said, wriggling his eyebrows excitedly at Kelly. She lit up like a firecracker, squealing with excitement.

"Hey, Franks, ask her about MTAC," Hawkins reminded the grizzled agent as Shannon and Franks disappeared around the corner.

He took her into the interrogation room and grabbed a chair, straddling it backwards and pointing firmly at the chair on the other side of the table.

"Sit," he said.

Shannon held her purse to her chest and looked at the chair with disdain.

"You wanted to speak with me?" she asked coldly, looking at him with distaste.

"Yeah, so sit," he said, rolling his eyes at her. "Please, ma'am," he went on sarcastically.

She yanked out the chair.

"What do you want?" she inquired stonily.

"Want to loosen you up a bit," he retorted.

Shannon looked shocked.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, her voice rising. She clearly took what he said the wrong way, and Franks rolled his eyes again.

"Don't get any ideas, miss, you're a looker but you ain't my type," he growled. "I mean you got a lot bottled up, and you need to get it out of your system 'fore this crap you're in drives you crazy."

"What are you talking about?" she asked in exasperation, still offended.

"How long's it been since your husband's been home?"

"Five months," she answered.

"Uh-huh, and how many times 'ave you cried since then?"

She glared at him.

"I don't have time to cry. I have a daughter."

"She ain't here now," Franks pointed out.

"What— flustered, Shannon shook her head. "You're trying to make me _cry_?"

"Look, lady, I know what happens when women bind up their emotions and crap," he said roughly. "It makes 'em all crazy, and there's gonna be a whole lot more crazy if you're really going to testify. So you gotta let it out now, 'cause you're scared, I can see it in your eyes."

Shannon stared at him, open mouthed, and looked away.

She _was_ scared. She didn't want to testify, and she wished she'd just told Kelly no about the mission and taken her home like she'd planned. She had a terrible sinking feeling that wouldn't go away and she missed Jethro more than ever. She didn't like what protective custody implied, and she felt very out of control—and control was the one thing that kept her sane while she was _worrying_ about Jethro.

Shannon leaned forward and bowed her head, looking at her blurry reflection in the interrogation room's table. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, succumbing to the stinging, threatening tears that had been attacking her eyes since Jethro boarded a plane to go to the Middle East.

"Good," Mike Franks said harshly, as she covered her eyes and her shoulders started to shake.

He frowned. He didn't like crying women any more than tense woman. He really only liked fresh, salsa-dancing, sharp-tongued, naked _senoritas_, but he was out of luck for the time being.

Dammit, he'd stuck himself in a room with a crying marine wife. _Why_ did he think that was a good idea? Oh—right, he liked the kid.

He reached forward and took Shannon Gibbs' wrist gently, pulling her hand away.

She glared at him, her eyes red and her cheeks wet.

"I miss my husband," she said. "Every time the phone rings I have a heart attack, and I always think the doorbell means there's a chaplain here. Now it's going to be twice as bad."

She drew in a deep breath and shook her head, reaching over to clasp his hand in hers.

Franks frowned.

"What's your husband's name?" he asked.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs," she murmured.

"What's his MOS?"

"His rank? He's a Gunnery Sergeant," she said. "He's a sniper."

"Hot shot," scoffed Franks. "You want to see to him?"

Shannon eyed him guardedly.

"What do you mean?"

"Up in MTAC, our threat assessment center, we've got some pretty high-tech stuff. Maybe we might can get him on video conference, maybe. You can talk to him, and it will be easier to fill him in that way than try to get a phone connection or send a letter."

Her blue eyes widened and she held his hand tightly, thinking about it. She could see Jethro's face—she could hear his voice, Kelly could talk to him! It was tempting. She wanted it so badly.

"There are no promises—" Franks began.

Shannon shook her head abruptly, biting her lip.

"No," she said. "I don't want it."

"Why the hell not?" he asked, glaring at her.

"I can't," she said, almost pleadingly. "If you could—just find out where he is, and if he's safe, that's enough. That's all I want. I haven't heard from him in a while. But I can't see him—and we're not telling him about this."

Franks stared at her.

"Hang on, you ain't gonna _tell_ him 'bout this?" he growled in shock.

Shannon just looked at him sharply. Franks pulled his hand away and folded his arms toughly.

"You wanna tell me why not?" he snapped.

Shannon wiped her eyes with the heel of her hands. She swallowed hard.

"Because I know him," she said dryly, with a smile. "I _know_ Jethro, and if he got wind that there was some threat to me or Kelly, he'd go AWOL," she explained. "He'd up and abandon the Marines, and I can't have him in jail or without a paycheck. Kelly would starve."

Franks made a _harrumph_ sort of noise.

Shannon covered her mouth, holding back a laugh.

"Agent Franks, I don't want him to worry. It would get him killed."

Franks nodded.

"Fair enough," he said.

She pointed at him sharply.

"But you _cannot_ tell Kelly I turned this down," she said firmly. "She'd _never_ forgive me."

* * *

><p>"Saint Probie," Kelly said, grabbing Agent Donaghy's hand as they entered the house and dragging him forward. "Come see my room. I have six G.I. Joe dolls—you can be one, it's time for Barbie to get married again anyway," Kelly said, her voice fading as she led the bewildered agent down the hall. "She keeps getting divorced, she's a serial bride…"<p>

Shannon laughed and shook his head, while Kellogg locked the door and gave the eight-year-old an odd look.

"Funny game to play," he remarked.

"I don't know where she gets the ideas," Shannon said. "I mean, Jethro and I don't have marital problems."

"None at all?" asked Kellogg. He scoffed. "Kudos," he grumbled.

"Married?" Shannon asked.

"Uh," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Divorced," he said. "Uh, twice."

Shannon clicked her tongue.

"Sorry," she muttered. "Do you have kids? Would you like a drink?"

He nodded to the drink.

"I got a boy, he's sixteen. Doesn't talk to me much," Kellogg answered.

Shannon gave him a sympathetic look, and a glass of sweet tea.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Sweet tea," Shannon answered, a quizzical look on her face.

"Oh, that southern stuff," he muttered, tasting it. He appeared to like it, because he continued to nurse it.

Shannon crossed her arms and leaned against the sink. She rubbed her forehead. Kellogg frowned, setting the glass down.

"I know this is hard on you guys," he said awkwardly. "You're doin' a brave thing—"

Shannon waved her hand, embarrassed.

"No, don't say that," she said. "I'm doing the _right_ thing, that's that. Agent Kellogg, I married into the military, I'm used to hearing a bunch of bull about heroes. I'm just doing what's right, because the sailor Hernandez killed did what was brave. What my husband does is _brave_."

Kellogg shrugged, as if to agree with her.

"Mrs. Gibbs, you can call me Jay," he said amicably.

She nodded, and smiled.

"Well, Jay," she said matter-of-factly. "I'm going to go save your partner from the tyranny of a Barbie wedding."

* * *

><p>"Mom," Kelly said, running into her bedroom and leaping onto her bed. "Can I call Grandma and tell her about the agents?"<p>

"Noooo," Shannon drawled, eyes wide. "No, no _no_. Kelly, are you trying to make my life difficult? No one is telling Grandma anything."

"Why not? It's interesting!"

"Well Grandma will think it's an invitation to come marching in here to see us," retorted Shannon, folding some more of Kelly's clothes and putting them away. "And I have enough of a headache as it is."

Kelly giggled. She grabbed a book off of her shelf and started turning down her covers.

"Maybe you have a headache because you're going to have a baby," she said sneakily.

"Kelly, I'm not pregnant. For the last time."

"How come you won't tell me if you want to be?" Kelly pouted.

Shannon shrugged. She looked over at Kelly as she put the last of her daughter's socks away. They didn't have the money for another baby, and Jethro wanted one more than she did. Shannon was content with Kelly. Talking about it made her miss Jethro. They hadn't had any luck, anyway.

"What are we reading tonight?" Shannon asked, changing the subject.

Kelly held up the book.

"Nancy Drew," she said, patting the bed next to her. Shannon sat down, leaning back and putting her arm around Kelly's shoulders.

"You reading, or me?" asked Shannon.

"Umm, me," Kelly decided. "I asked Saint Probie if he wanted to read, I even said we could read Hardy Boys instead. He said no."

"He has to do his job, sweetheart," Shannon said, watching Kelly find her place in the book.

Kelly nodded in understanding, and then put the book down.

"Mom, I can't sleep," she announced bluntly—and out of the blue.

"Pardon me?" Shannon asked, leaning forward to look at her. "Why not? What's wrong?"

"I always hear the bad guy's voice, shouting in Spanish," Kelly explained. "And then I hear the gunshot, and then I take off my shoe because of the blood on it, so I throw the shoe away, and when I look to see where it went, the dead sailor is," Kelly stopped talking.

Shannon cupped her chin and lifted her head, tilting her own.

"Is what, Kelly?" she asked softly.

"Daddy," Kelly whimpered quietly.

Shannon bit her lip.

"This is a dream you have?" she asked hoarsely, feeling like she'd been punched in the gut.

"Yes," Kelly answered tearfully.

Shannon hugged Kelly close and kissed the top of her head, unsure how to soothe her. The very thought was a sobering, gruesome one—she had expected Kelly to have nightmares, but nothing like this. Replacing the dead sailor's face with her father's?

"I'm so scared someone is going to kill Daddy," Kelly whispered. "I want him to come home."

"I do too, Kelly," Shannon sighed, rubbing her daughter's shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me about the nightmare before?"

"Because I thought it would go away," murmured Kelly into Shannon's arms. "And I didn't want to worry you. But now I'm worried, and we have all this protection even though we're safe in California and Daddy doesn't have anyone to protect him."

"Daddy can take care of himself," Shannon soothed softly. "He always has," she reminded Kelly. "He's come home safe before."

"What if it's different this time?" Kelly sniffled.

Shannon chewed on her lip.

"What if he's asleep or drinking coffee and someone catches him by surprise?"

Panic infiltrated Kelly's voice.

"Mom, what if he's listening to the tape we sent him and a bad guy sneaks up on him?"

"Kelly," soothed Shannon. "Kelly, you _cannot_ worry about things like this. I know you think about it. I know it's scary, but the little things will drive you crazy."

Kelly settled into quiet sniffling, thinking about what Shannon had said.

"It's easy for you to say," she muttered under her breath.

"What did you say?" asked Shannon.

"Do you even miss Daddy?" Kelly burst out.

Shannon looked at her in shock.

"Kelly, of _course_—"

"Because you _never_ say anything. You don't _talk_ about it, you tell _me_ to stop worrying, you didn't even _cry_ when he left. Now you're just trying to take my mind off of it but it really just makes me feel like a baby because I'm not a _big_ _girl_ like you so I'm sad about it!"

Kelly's outburst was angry, and it startled Shannon. She bit her lip, feeling as if she had been smacked.

"Kelly I miss Jethro _every single day_," she said earnestly. "I've had him longer than I've had you, smarty-pants! I do miss him, Kelly, I miss him so much-honey, he sleeps right next to me, how can I _not_ miss him? He's warm and he _snores_ and it's hard to sleep without that!"

"Ewww, now you're just being _gross_," whined Kelly, perking up a little all the same.

Shannon smiled weakly.

"It's true," she insisted. "I haven't meant to make you feel like a baby," she went on seriously. "I just didn't want you to worry all the time. That's my job."

"I _was_ worrying that you didn't love Daddy anymore," Kelly mumbled.

"Sweetie," mumbled Shannon, snuggling down with Kelly and hugging her closer. She kissed the top of her head, pressing the little girl's head against her chest comfortingly. "Kelly, I won't ever stop loving him."

"Promise?" asked Kelly, her voice muffled.

"I promise," Shannon agreed. "Cross my heart, hope for pie."

She felt Kelly smile, and she relaxed a little. It shook her up to learn that Kelly had thought such a thing, that Shannon didn't _miss_ Jethro—that she didn't _love_ him. Shannon just wasn't as in touch with her emotions as she had once been—she was too busy attending to Kelly's.

Since becoming a mother, she had become hardened so she could be strong for Kelly. In a way, the opposite had happened to Jethro—he was more affectionate, more approachable; particularly with Kelly.

Kelly pushed her book away and just lay there, her breathing slowly evening out.

Stroking her hair gently, Shannon sat up, watching Kelly sleep soundly. After a good half an hour, when she was sure Kelly was deeply asleep and wouldn't be easily woken, Shannon heaved her up into her arms and wrapped her legs around her waist, slipping out of the child's bedroom.

She took Kelly into the master and tucked her into bed, going off to get ready for bed herself.

"Agent Kellogg," she said quietly, tying up her hair, holding a toothbrush, as she went in search of the protective agent.

"Something wrong?" Kellogg asked, opening an eye from the couch and looking at her.

He looked alert. He had one arm behind his head and one crossed over his waist, resting by his side, near a holster. Shaken for a moment by the gun that was tucked at his hip, Shannon didn't say anything.

"Shannon?" he asked, starting up in alarm.

She shook herself out of it.

"Nothing, nothing," she placated, laughing a little. She nodded at his weapons. "You think I'd be used to it, with Jethro's rifle always locked up in the house," she said lightly.

Kellogg looked down, relaxing a little. He didn't say anything. He just looked startled and wary.

"I just wanted to let you know that Kelly's sleeping in my room. I didn't want you thinking she had run off or was kidnapped."

Kellogg nodded.

"Yeah, good," he muttered. "Thanks. She scared?"

Shannon shrugged.

"She says she's been having nightmares."

"You should take her to see someone," Kellogg said in an off-hand way.

"You think she needs that?" Shannon asked worriedly, frowning.

"Ah, I dunno," Kellogg said tiredly. "You'd know better, I figure."

Shannon considered him and then nodded. She didn't quite think Kelly needed a psychologist right now. Perhaps if the trauma persisted, Shannon would look into it. It wouldn't be a financial strain; it was something the government would cover.

"Where's Agent Donaghy?" asked Shannon.

"In a parked car across the street," answered Kellogg.

He looked at her a moment longer, then settled back and closed his eyes, getting comfortable again.

"Shannon, it will take a while to get used to this."

"I hope not," she answered seriously.

He looked at her with one eye.

"Good point," he agreed. "Guess I hope it's over before you ever get used to it."

Shannon smiled. She took another look around the living room and bid Kellogg goodnight, tiptoeing back down the hall to the master bedroom. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and put pajamas on.

Then she crawled into bed next to Kelly, stretching out on her back with her arms above her head. Consciously, she toyed with her engagement ring—the small, simple diamond that Jethro had pinched pennies to buy her nearly three months after he'd asked for her hand.

She'd insisted she didn't need it, but he'd already sworn he'd never forgive himself for proposing without one.

Shannon glanced at Kelly, sleeping peacefully, and thanked God for her, and prayed for her safety. Then, closing her eyes and biting her lip, she prayed to God that Jethro was safe over there—and last, she asked the man upstairs to give her whatever safety was left.

* * *

><p><em>In remembrance of the American War Veterans (Veterans Day, United States) and all of the soldiers from every nation who lost their lives in WW1 (Armistice Day, Europe).<em>

_The eleventh day, the eleventh month, the eleventh hour._

_-Alexandra_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: This is the last chapter, so you know what's coming. An Epilogue follows._

_-29 February 1991. _

* * *

><p>"Kelly," called Shannon, warning her gently with the tone of her voice. "You still have homework before dinner."<p>

Kelly came trudging down the hall slowly, a look of resignation on her face.

"My mom is making me get off the phone," she said, glaring at Shannon.

"Oh, I gave you twenty minutes longer than usual," Shannon said, rolling her eyes.

Kelly stuck her tongue out.

"Kelly Michelle Gibbs, I do _not_ think so!" snapped Shannon seriously. Kelly yanked her tongue back into her mouth and sighed.

"No really I have to go, Maddie," she said. "I got myself in trouble, I think."

Shannon nodded, snapping her finger and holding her palm out for the phone.

"Hang it up," she ordered.

"'Bye, Maddie," Kelly sighed. "Miss you too. Tell Brandon I'll kick his knees when I get back. Okay…okay, wait…okay bye," Kelly held out the phone without hanging up. "Maddie's mom wants to talk to you," she grumbled.

Shannon nodded and took the phone.

"Homework. Now," she said firmly. "Do not stick your tongue out at me, Kelly. It's disrespectful," she added, pointing Kelly towards her bedroom.

She shook her head and sighed as she lifted the phone to her ear. Thursdays were the days Kelly always spoke to her best friend, Maddie Tyler, back home in DC. She called Maddie right at six o'clock so Maddie would just be getting home from school. Occasionally, Maddie's mother and Shannon spoke for a while.

"Hey, Meredith," Shannon greeted warmly. "How's the winter?"

"Snowy," Meredith Tyler answered grimly. "It hasn't let up. I envy your sunshine."

Shannon laughed.

"It is nice to avoid all the cold," she agreed. "Your family's doing okay?"

"Oh, they're surviving. The boys have been passing strep throat back and forth, but Maddie's managed to fight it off. She misses Kelly; that makes her the sickest."

"Kelly misses Maddie, too," Shannon said. "In fact, I do too. Maddie's such a polite little thing, compared to mine."

Meredith laughed.

"You can't be talking about my Maddie _Back-Talk_, can you?" she snorted, sighing. "Oh, we miss Kelly, too. Well, Greg and I do. The boys, well," Meredith left the sentence hanging and paused.

Shannon smiled. She highly doubted Maddie's four-and-six-year-old brothers missed Kelly constantly hanging around their house.

"Have you heard from Jethro, Shannon?"

"Not recently," Shannon said with a sigh. "He's out of contact range," she added. "Safe, though, last I heard."

"That's good," Meredith said, sighing in relief. "I'm glad to hear it. How were you able to find out? You actually got someone to tell you some information?" She sounded disbelieving.

Shannon shrugged, looking over her shoulder as one of the agents came into the house.

"Lucky, I guess," she said distractedly.

"Is everything okay, Shannon?"

"You know how it is, Meredith," Shannon answered, shrugging. She checked on the food she had in the oven and leaned against the countertop. "Nothing is _okay_ until he's home."

"I hear that," said Meredith supportively. She paused, and Shannon leaned forward, trying to see which agent had walked in, and where he had gone. "Any luck in the baby department?" Meredith asked conversationally.

Shannon laughed in surprise.

"God, Meredith," she teased, "Jethro's been overseas nearly six months, either I'm pretty far along or he's in for a surprise."

"I didn't know if you'd warmed to the idea," Meredith said.

Shannon sighed.

"I feel the same," she admitted. "He still wants another one, but I wanted them closer together and he _didn't_ want one right after we had Kelly. We were having problems with it anyway, I don't think it's meant to be."

"Ah," Meredith said, blowing air into the receiver. "Well, you never know. Greg and I just wanted two, and then Aaron came along."

"I don't want any surprises," Shannon said, smirking. "Don't you wish that on me, Meredith!"

Meredith laughed.

Agent Kellogg appeared in the doorway, folding his arms. He nodded in greeting and Shannon pushed herself away from the countertop, waving back amiably. She checked on the food simmering on the stove and put a hand on her hip.

"I'm going to let you go, Meredith," she said. "I've got to get dinner on the table."

"I'm sure I'll talk to you next week," Meredith answered. "Can you believe it's going to be March? Lord, I can't even get used to putting ninety-one as the date, and we're nearly three months in."

Shannon nodded.

"Time flies," she agreed. "Bye, Meredith."

Shannon hung the phone up on the wall, slipping a potholder over her hand and opening the oven. She took a pan of lasagna out of the oven and looked at Kellogg over her shoulder.

"There's enough for you and your boys to eat with us," she said welcomingly.

"There always is, Shannon," he said gratefully. "Can I have your attention a minute?"

"One second," she said, setting the lasagna to cool and turning off the burner under the green beans she was making. She removed her potholder and retrieved a glass of water, leaning a hip on the counter as she turned to Kellogg.

"You have some actual information, Jay?" she asked.

He sighed, looking frustrated.

"No," he said. "But we're starting to think we're lacking information because they know more than we think," he said cryptically.

Shannon gave him a look.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, we've been thinking that maybe the Reynosas are unsure about who they're looking for, or still trying to figure it out, and that's why there have been no threats or signs that they're after you," Kellogg explained.

Shannon nodded, familiar with the rhetoric.

Kellogg hesitated.

"We've started looking at things from a different angle," he went on slowly. "We feel…that perhaps the Reynosas are acutely aware of your identities and are attempting to lull us into a false sense of security."

"Is there a particular reason you think that?" Shannon asked.

Kellogg shrugged, tilting his head back and forth.

"It's…unusual for the Reynosas to be so quiet when we get close to them," he said. "Hernandez is set to be arraigned next Wednesday, and we haven't gotten a threat, haven't had a visit from a lawyer," Kellogg paused. "If the Reynosas were worried, they'd be making noise. But they seem calm, which leads us to believe they don't think they're in danger."

"You mean," Shannon began slowly. "You mean they think they can scare me off," she finished apprehensively.

"Maybe," agreed Kellogg. "I don't want to scare you Shannon, I'm just filling you in," he warned. "But we're tightening our protective custody."

Shannon reached up and rubbed her forehead.

"Is that even possible?" she grumbled.

It was already hard enough to grocery shop while flanked by two suits.

Kellogg smirked a little.

"Oh, you ain't seen nothin' yet," he said brightly. "Kelly will no longer walk to school, regardless of how nice the weather is. Donaghy or one of us will drive her, and she'll be escorted in and out of school—through different entrances each day."

Shannon stared with wide eyes, falling silent and solemn instantly. That didn't sound good at all. That…that sounded downright terrifying. It was as if NIS thought Kelly had a target painted on her already.

"In fact, you won't be driving anymore. Either Agent Hawkins or myself will drive the Station Wagon wherever you need to go, and we're going to scope each place out beforehand, so you'll need to give us notice."

Shannon continued to stare at him, her eyes wide and unblinking.

"You're serious?" she asked after a silent moment. "You're _completely_ serious?"

"I'm afraid so, Shannon," Kellogg said, wincing. "Franks—Agent Mike Franks—he doesn't want to be handed your case."

Shannon's brow furrowed quizzically and Kellogg cleared his throat, uncomfortable.

"Er—sorry, ma'am," he said. "I just meant…well, Franks handles Reynosa victims only, if you remember."

"Ah," Shannon said.

She sighed and took her glass of water to the sink, frowning and leaning forward. She sighed.

"We only have to suffer this until the arraignment?" she asked quietly.

"Hopefully," Kellogg said. "Though we'll keep you in custody until the trial is over. If Hernandez is arraigned, he'll have seen who you are, and then he'll be in lock-up for your safety," the NIS agent explained.

"If he's not?" Shannon asked.

Kellogg hesitated.

"We'll see," he said. "We may consider Witness Protection. These are dangerous men and women."

Shannon looked at him in disbelief.

"What about my husband?" she asked dully.

Kellogg just looked at her. She frowned and shook her head.

"This is a nightmare," she muttered. She sighed and straightened up, moving briskly to start getting plates out of the cabinets. "Kelly and I will cooperate fully with your security measures," she said, and lifted her head to look down the hall.

"Kelly! Supper!"

It had been two and a half weeks since they had witnessed the murder at _San Luis Rey_.

* * *

><p>"What did you do at school today?"<p>

"You ask that every night."

"Well, you do something different every day, don't you?"

Shannon raised her eyebrows at her sassy daughter and Kelly smiled. She sighed and swallowed a forkful of lasagna, took a drink of water, and then took a deep breath.

"Well," she began conversationally. "We started writing sentences in cursive, and we started learning all of the kitchen stuff in Spanish. I also learned what DNA stands for."

"What does is stand for?"

"Deoxyribonucleic acid," Kelly recited smugly.

"My, that's quite a mouthful," Shannon said, leaning back in her chair.

"My teacher made us sound it out, and I got it first," Kelly announced primly.

"I hope you were polite and didn't brag," Shannon said.

Kelly nodded. She went back to her lasagna, chewing thoughtfully.

"What did you do while I was at school all day?"

"Laundry," Shannon answered.

"That's boring, Mom."

"I know," Shannon said. "But I have this kid who can't do her own, so, you know, someone's gotta step up to the plate," she teased, wrinkling her nose. Kelly giggled, and held her neck up, peeking into the kitchen.

"You could make Kellogg do it," she snickered. "Or Saint Probie."

Shannon threw up her hands, laughing.

"Will you _please_ tell me why you call him that, sweetheart?" she asked, arching an eyebrow in amusement. "It's driving me crazy."

"_Well_," Kelly began, drawing the word out with a long sigh. "Maayyyyy-beeeee—"

The phone rang and Shannon sighed, assuming it was a telemarketer, or perhaps a friend on base needing a quick babysitter. She walked into the kitchen and answered the phone, tucking her hair out of the way behind her ear.

"Hello?"

There was a crackling sort of fuzzy silence on the other line.

"Hello?" Shannon said again, a hand on her hip. She sounded impatient, and she rolled her eyes. She hung up the phone. Donaghy stepped into the kitchen.

"What was that?" he asked sharply.

"Prank call," Shannon said. "Or something," she shook her head in annoyance and started to walk back to the table.

"Are you sure?" asked Donaghy tightly.

She stopped, uncomfortable by the worried look on his face. She parted her lips to say something, but the phone rang again. Donaghy stuck his hand out and stepped forward a little.

"Wait—" he started sharply, but Shannon had picked up the phone already.

"Yes?" she said impatiently.

She heard the crackling and buzzing again and she almost hung up right that moment until she heard—

"Shannon," his voice broke through the bad connection. "It's me."

"Jethro!" She shouted, a shocked smile breaking over her features.

Kelly leapt into her chair, standing over the dinner table.

"DADDY?" she screamed uncertainly, her eyes wide.

She scrambled out of her chair and dashed around the table into the kitchen, hopping at Shannon's feet. Shannon pressed the phone closer to her ear, straining to hear Jethro.

"Let met talk to him let me talk to him MOM—"

"Kelly!" barked Shannon. "Be quiet, I can barely hear him," she reprimanded. "Jethro, are you still there?"

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "Can't talk long, Shannon," he said. "We came up on a village with working phones, and Sergeant's letting us call home real quick, since we've been out so long."

"Too long," Shannon said, unable to help herself. "Jethro, you could write, you know."

He scoffed at her.

"Everything okay?" he asked, ignoring the suggestion. "No earthquakes?

Shannon laughed, relieved just to hear his voice.

"No earthquakes," she repeated, nodding. She patted her hand on the counter and Kelly hoisted herself up, sitting next to the sink, waiting impatiently and eagerly. "You?" Shannon asked. "You're safe, Jethro?"

"Fine, Shannon," he soothed. "It's hot as hell," he added. "Where's Kel?"

Shannon held the phone out to Kelly.

"Daddy!" she yelped admiringly. "Did you get our package? Did you hear my recital? Have you drunk all the coffee yet?" Kelly queried rapidly, bouncing up and down. "I was worried about you! I miss you!"

"I miss you too, Kelly," he said quickly. "I got everything, yeah. You and your mom okay, really? She lyin' to me?" he asked.

"No, we're really okay," Kelly said, giggling. Her eyes sparkled. "We're going to go to an officers' bonfire tomorrow, and I got a new coat—and I'm going to send you another letter, as soon as I get more stationery," Kelly took a deep breath. "Are you there?"

The line crackled, and Kelly frowned.

"Yes," he said after a moment, still struggling through the bad connection. "I've gotta let the other guys have a turn," he said. "Put Mom back on."

"Okay," Kelly said. "Okay. Be safe, Daddy," she pleaded earnestly. "Hide behind trees and stuff…or bury yourself in sand…just stay safe, okay? I love you."

"Love you, Kelly," he said gruffly, and Shannon took the phone back, gesturing for Kelly to return to her supper.

He sighed and cleared his throat.

"You have to go?" Shannon asked.

"Connection's bad," he said. "Brasher's wife just had a baby. He needs to call her."

"Of course he does," agreed Shannon. "It's good to hear you," she said sincerely, putting a hand on her hip and turning her back to the agent. "We really miss you, honey."

"Yeah," he said. "Sure everything's okay, Shannon?" he asked warily. "Somethin's bothering me. I've got a bad feeling."

Shannon laughed, biting her cheek.

"Oh, Jethro, this isn't Star Wars," she teased. "We're fine. Now you let Brasher call his baby."

"Yeah," he said, again. "Take care. I'll come back safe," he said, part of the routine.

"I love you," Shannon said firmly. "I love you, Jethro. Kelly loves you."

"I know," he growled smugly.

Shannon laughed, rolled her eyes, and hung up as the line went dead.

Donaghy smiled at her as she made her way back to the kitchen table, in a much better mood than she had been in a week or so.

"He sounds fine," Kelly said brightly.

"Yes," Shannon agreed warmly, taking another spoonful of lasagna from the pan. "Yes, he does."

* * *

><p>"Mom," Kelly said, tying her shoes obediently the next morning. She spoke through the apple slice she was holding between her teeth. "We're still going to the bonfire, right?"<p>

She had been filled in on the security changes at breakfast this morning, and in the midst of adjusting to all of that, had only been able to think about the bonfire her friend Ashley's parents had invited them to.

Shannon frowned, chewing on her bottom lip as she took a drink of hot coffee.

"I don't know about that," she warned.

Kelly began whining, tying her other shoe.

"Mom, I'm really excited about it," she pleaded, glaring at Shannon. "And Ashley really wants me to come; we're going to play cops and robbers with the older boys!"

Shannon smiled.

"It's a difficult situation, babe," she placated. "Hawkins?" she asked, looking over at the agent who would be driving Kelly to school.

He looked very reluctant.

"It's an open area, hard to secure," he said. "And there are too many people we'd have to vet," he sighed, shaking his head. "I don't think it's possible, Kelly."

She stood up and folded her arms, glaring at Hawkins.

"Agent Hawkins, it's a bonfire full of _Marines_," she scoffed. "_Who_ do you have to vet or whatever? Everyone there has a gun and everyone loves America," she pointed out. "For real?"

"Kelly, don't be disrespectful," Shannon warned. She pointed at Hawkins with her mug. "Apologize."

Hawkins started laughing, though. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and stood up, picking up Kelly's back-pack for her.

"You know what, kid, you got a point. I'll have Kellogg look into it, run over some scenarios, get a feel for the idea," he said. He ruffled her hair fondly and took his keys from his pocket. "Hell, I bet we could let you hang there for a while."

Kelly beamed smugly; always able to wrangle the outcome she wanted out of people.

"Be good at school," Shannon called as they walked out the door.

She shook her head and settled in to enjoying her morning coffee. This unemployed, housewife nonsense drove her crazy sometimes.

* * *

><p>"Good morning, Miss Tica," Kelly greeted pleasantly, hanging her coat up in her cubby.<p>

"Good morning, Kelly," the third-grade teacher responded nicely. "Good morning, Agent Hawkins," she greeted, accustomed to an NIS agent walking Kelly Gibbs into the classroom.

It generally meant Kelly was the first student to arrive, well before the bell rang.

"Here's your spelling test from yesterday," Miss Tica said, handing Kelly the paper. "You're improving a lot. I know spelling isn't your strong point."

"Yes ma'am," Kelly said, frowning. She looked up brightly. "Agent Kellogg knows a lot of games to help me," she informed the young teacher.

Miss Tica smiled.

"That's always helpful. Can you feed Bernie while I prepare the opening assignment?"

Kelly nodded eagerly, scampering off the feed the class' pet rabbit, a fat brown thing named Bernie. Hawkins followed her slowly with his hands in his pockets.

"I pick you up after your reading program today, right?" he asked.

"You know that, silly," she answered. "And I know to wait in the office until you fetch me," she said solemnly.

"Good girl," Hawkins said. "Have a good day."

"Hey, Agent Hawkins!" Kelly turned, holding rabbit food in one hand, and putting her other on her hip. She gave him a good, hard glare. "Don't forget to see about the bonfire. I really want to go."

He snorted and nodded, holding up his hands as if he were being attacked.

"I've got your back, Kelly," he soothed. He waved at her, and then saluted.

She giggled and turned back to fend the rabbit, hardly affected by the tightening of security.

* * *

><p>As unaffected as Kelly may have been, Shannon felt like the security was suffocating. After finishing her coffee and cleaning up the mess from breakfast, she entertained the idea of going for a run—but she didn't want to do so flanked by Donaghy and Kellogg.<p>

She also abandoned the idea of a trip to the grocery store for a cut of beef for dinner because she didn't feel like waiting around while the agents preemptively explored the place.

She was too fidgety to mend any of the clothes Kelly had torn buttons from or ripped holes in, and it was too chilly for her taste to enjoy a book on the porch swing. The laundry was done, and the house was clean.

_Seriously_. She wanted to know how stay-at-home moms handled this boredom. She missed her job in Virginia. She'd been a counselor for Fairfax County schools, meaning she'd gotten off work just in time to pick up Kelly from school.

Her job was only being temporarily filled while she was in California, but she was anxious to get back to it. She liked having problems to solve. She did not like sitting around with nothing to do—there was a _reason_ she had forced Jethro to wait for marriage until she'd gotten a degree.

She was entertaining herself currently by inspecting all of the silverware for water spots and setting them aside to polish them. She was seconds away from making one of the agents help her, just to introduce them to the monotony their lockdown was causing.

Shannon reached for silver polish, and Agent Kellogg walked into the room.

"Excuse me, Shannon," he said, walking past her. "I need to use the phone. My beeper just went off."

She nodded, turning back to her tedious time-killer. She listened to Kellogg's muted conversation; his side was pretty monosyllabic. He sounded tense, but he always sounded tense.

"Everything okay?" Shannon asked absently, when she heard the phone click back to the receiver.

"No," Kellogg said.

Shannon put a utensil down and turned around, arching an eyebrow.

"Are we in trouble?" she asked calmly.

"Maybe," he answered. "Maybe not."

Shannon glared at him.

"I've gotten straighter answers from a guilty eight-year-old," she said pointedly. "What's wrong, Jay?"

He scratched the back of his head, then rubbed his jaw.

"NIS found a body in Oceanside," he said slowly. "Female, 'bout your age, red hair like yours," Kellogg explained. "It had Reynosa's mark on it."

Shannon stared.

"What does," she began slowly, her brow furrowing. "Does that mean the Reynosa cartel thinks they got me?" she asked uncertainly.

"Don't know what it means," Kellogg answered. "Dead woman, fits your description a little, found near where you saw the murder," he seemed to be rambling to himself now; he was agitated. "It could be, but it doesn't feel right."

"No," Shannon shook her head. "The note, the note about Kelly," she said. "Remember? When they described what she was wearing? They know what we look like," her face turned pale.

"Maybe," Kellogg said again. "We were never sure if they knew, or if they were guessing. This death could be a warning, a sign that Hernandez is still capable of killing and he still will—could be trying to scare you. Or someone could have wrongly identified this woman as you, the Mother Superior or someone, and they could think they have you," Kellogg frowned. "We have no indication that the Reynosas know your names."

Shannon bit her lip. She stared at the agent, thinking over what he'd said. She held her hand out, palm up, frowning.

"What does this mean?" she asked, frustrated. "Jay, I'm going to lose my mind."

"It depends on what Franks says," he answered. "I'm going to fill Donaghy and Hawkins in," he said. "I'm going to send Donaghy back to NIS to keep us on alert, and I'm sending Hawkins to get Kelly from school. You two are confined to the house until we figure out what's going on."

Shannon gave him a dismal look.

"Don't scare my daughter," she warned in a sharp tone, falling silent, and then turning back to polishing the silver.

There was nothing else she could do.

* * *

><p>"What's for supper?" Kelly asked mundanely from the living room floor, flipping uninterestedly through television channels.<p>

"Leftovers," Shannon answered.

Kelly turned and made a face.

"Relax, you can have the grilled chicken, I'll eat the lasagna," Shannon soothed. Kelly claimed to hate re-heated food, but she particularly disliked pasta the second time around.

The eight-year-old grumbled, and went back to flipping through the same channels.

"There's nothing on," she mumbled.

"Then turn the television off and read a book," Shannon suggested, poking around in the fridge for something to offer the agents. They had been using the foyer as a conference room for the past hour, occasionally using the phone when a beeper went off.

It sounded like there were disconcerted ghosts hanging out in the entrance hallway.

"Why couldn't I go play soccer?" Kelly whined.

"Because the Agents said no," Shannon answered.

"They're paranoid," Kelly pouted, crossing her arms. "They're ruining everything."

"Kelly, they're doing their jobs," Shannon warned.

"Well, they can stop," Kelly said rudely. "Nothing's happened."

Shannon shook her head, almost at the end of her rope.

"You're acting like a toddler," she told her daughter. "You've got a few more rules. They're here to keep you safe. Just grin and bear it."

"I'm sick of it," snapped Kelly. "I want to go play and I'm tired of being walked around all day like a baby."

"Kelly," said Shannon, raising her voice. "Enough. Stop talking back, and stop complaining. NIS is not trying to personally offend you."

"They're running my life," Kelly said dramatically.

"For the love of God," Shannon growled. "Kelly Michelle, one more word and you're going to bed."

"It's eight o'clock!"

"Try me," Shannon said in a deadly voice.

Kelly turned and glared at her over the sofa. Shannon gave her a warning flick of the hand.

"Don't give me that look."

Kelly continued to glare at her stubbornly.

"You're mean," she said bravely.

Shannon snapped her finger loudly.

"Bed," she ordered. "Now."

"Mom!" shouted Kelly, standing up and stomping her food.

"Go. To. Bed," Shannon ordered through gritted teeth. "Brush your teeth, wash your face, turn the lights off. Not one more word, or there will be no bonfire no matter _what_."

Kelly flung herself around and dragged her feet down the hall, mumbling dramatically. She reached up to rub tears away and Shannon sighed, throwing a dish into the sink. Kelly wasn't usually so aggressive, but Shannon supposed it was understandable.

She leaned against the counter.

Hawkins came into the kitchen.

"Excuse me," he said again, picking up the phone.

Shannon walked into the hall and put her hands on her hips.

"What's the news?" she asked shortly. "I just sent my kid to bed crying. She's frustrated and probably scared. Something's gotta give."

"We're about to find out," Kellogg said quietly, nodding towards where Hawkins had gone.

Shannon sighed and folded her arms, waiting. A few moments later, Hawkins came back in, rubbing his forehead. He set his jaw and looked irritated, pacing back and forth for a moment.

"Well?" Shannon demanded.

"It appears the Reynosas are trying to scare you," he said tightly. "Franks thinks they _do_ know who you are," he added dully.

Shannon just stared at him, waiting.

"And it appears we have a leak," snapped Hawkins.

"What?" burst out Donaghy. He let out a string of curses and then threw a half-hearted 'sorry, ma'am' in Shannon's direction.

"I'm married to a marine," she scoffed, ignoring the language.

"A _leak_? This whole time there's been a god damn _leak_?" he swore. "Jesus, Hawk, they could be planning something for the courthouse!"

"Calm down, Patrick," snapped Kellogg. "What's the whole story, Reggie?" he asked Hawkins seriously, in a much calmer tone.

"Franks looked into the dead woman, and went back to our sources to see if the Reynosa's might have gotten Shannon and Kelly's names," Hawkins explained. "He thought the Mother Superior might have gone around to Catholic churches with their description, but it turns out they've known for a while. One of Frank's boys found a Spanish note in the dead redhead's pocket."

"What did it say?" asked Shannon.

Hawkins looked at her, and the others remained silent.

"What did it say?" she asked coldly.

"It said," began Kellogg apologetically. "It said 'Shannon, shut your mouth or he'll shut it for you'," he informed her.

She swallowed and, after processing the words, nodded slowly. She reached up and touched her forehead, remaining silent.

"Okay," she began hoarsely. "Okay. Why might there be a leak? Because they know us? There's no other way they could know us?"

"We can't find any other leads," Hawkins said desperately. "Franks was out here investigating possible leaks anyway. He's usually stationed in the home office, back in DC."

"It would explain why they're always one damned step ahead of us," growled Donaghy.

Shannon looked around.

"How do I know it's not one of you three?" she asked seriously.

One could have heard a pin drop. They all stared at her. Kellogg shifted his feet uncomfortably. Hawkins looked around, meeting everyone's eyes and looking away. What did etiquette require was said in this sort of awkward situation?

Donaghy was the first to speak. He shrugged.

"You'd be dead by now," he said.

Shannon tilted her head. After a moment, she laughed, surprising them. She nodded, shrugging her shoulders.

"I suppose that's a trustworthy answer," she said sincerely. She smiled, feeling inexplicably comforted somehow. "What's next, then?"

"Logically, we'd move you to a safe house," Hawkins said.

"But," Kellogg picked up for him; "if we have a leak…" he let the sentence hang.

"Franks is going through everything," Hawkins assured her. "He's looking at anyone who's ever dealt with a Reynosa case to find out where the security breach is."

Shannon nodded again.

"He's probably going to set up a safe house for you," Hawkins said after a moment. "The leak has to be in California; DC has never had any odd security breaches when it comes to the Reynosas," he mused. "Looks like Kelly might see old Mike again after all."

"She'll like that," Shannon murmured. She sighed. "No bonfire," she said grimly.

"Afraid not," Kellogg said. "That's just asking for it."

"I'll tell her," Shannon said. "She's pissed at me anyway."

Shannon pushed her hair back and moved away from them blowing a sigh out through her lips.

"You guys eat something. I guess you'll be up all night figuring out what to do with us," she said. She left them, her mind already wandering, and walked down the hall to Kelly's room.

She stood outside the door for a moment, thinking about Jethro, and how worried she always was about him being in danger. It had never in a million years occurred to her that there was any danger lurking in the shadows of sunny California.

Sighing, she pushed open the door to make nice with her sulking daughter. She couldn't bear going to bed at odds with the headstrong little girl even when their lives weren't being threatened.

* * *

><p>She hadn't slept well, and she didn't bother freshening up before she ventured out to see what the agents were up to. They'd been crashing in her house for the past two weeks; she figured attempting to look presentable at all times was a pitiful sort of façade.<p>

She was tired and pale, and when she walked into the kitchen, she was surprised to see Kelly looking so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, sitting happily at the table. Catching sight of Shannon, she pointed excitedly at Kellogg, who was busy on the phone.

"I'm not going to school today," she bragged.

"What?" Shannon asked groggily. Her brow furrowed in confusion and she yawned, going to the kitchen to start some coffee.

"Agent Kellogg is on the phone with the principal," Kelly said. "We're going to a fun house," she continued.

"Safe house," corrected Hawkins, coming into the room with the paper and yesterday's mail. He set them down near Shannon and nodded at Kelly. He turned to Shannon.

"Franks thinks its best," he said quietly. "We're going to drive you two to NIS, and then Franks is going to take care of the rest. He knows where you're going, and so does another agent he trusts."

"None of you know?" Shannon asked.

Hawkins shook his head.

"You won't see us again until he thinks you're safe," he sad apologetically. "Afraid things will be shaken up for a while."

"As long as she's safe," Shannon said tiredly, pointing at Kelly. "What about school?"

"She'll be out until after the arraignment," Hawkins said. "When we get Hernandez behind bars, you two can come home, and then it's smooth sailing until the end of the trial."

"God, I can't wait to just _testify_," Shannon snapped, pushing her hair back. "I'm losing my mind," she said. She felt like she was saying that a lot lately. She started to go back to making coffee, and then she stopped.

She looked at Hawkins sharply for a minute.

"I'm taking her back to DC," she said.

"What?" he was taken aback.

"As soon as possible. I'm taking Kelly back to DC and leaving her with my mother. It's just safer. I'll wait until Hernandez is behind bars after the arraignment, but that's my decision."

Hawkins looked shocked. Then, he nodded—looking as if he should have thought of that.

"Damn," he swore. "Good idea. We'll send her with Franks, he's due back there soon."

"No," Shannon said firmly, "_I'm_ taking her. You can send Franks with us. I'll come back—but I am _not_ flying her across the country alone."

"Fair enough," agreed Hawkins. "You two need to pack, enough for a week to start with. We're leaving in two hours to take you to NIS."

Shannon nodded curtly. She abandoned the coffee idea, and walked in to get Kelly.

"Let's pack up," she said, smirking.

"We're _so_ good at packing," Kelly bragged loudly.

Shannon laughed.

"_That_ we are," she agreed.

* * *

><p>Sunglasses on, the Agents stood outside Government Issue cars in the driveway of the simple, Camp Pendleton base house. Shannon threw Kelly's suitcase in the back of one, thanking Donaghy quietly when he shut it for her.<p>

He nodded and said goodbye, giving Kelly a quick hug, and then a salute.

"Nice knowin' yah, kid," he said.

Shannon thought it was an odd thing to say, but she ignored it. There as a good chance Kelly would never see the agent she'd bonded with again. Donaghy got into the car with the suitcases and started it.

He would be driving one car, Hawkins would drive another, and Kellogg was going to drive them in their station wagon—it had been purposely leaked that Kelly and Shannon would be in one of the tinted, government cars.

"Get in the back," Shannon said nervously. "Seatbelt," she ordered, standing next to Kellogg.

"You okay, Shannon?" he asked quietly.

"No," she said shortly. "Something feels bad," she said. She smiled half-heartedly. "I sound like my husband," she said slowly, "but my gut is bothering me."

"Yeah," Kellogg agreed, slipping his sunglasses down to glance at her. He patted her shoulder. "Me too," he said briskly, walking around to the driver side. He got in.

Hawkins and Shannon nodded each other, and Hawkins got into his car. He and Donaghy drove off.

Shannon stood in the yard a moment, and looked at the house. For the thousandth time, she wished she'd never taken Kelly to the mission that day. She wished Jethro were here, because with him, she'd feel safer. She'd take him over the multitude of trained agents.

"Moth-errrrr," Kelly drawled, poking her head at the window. She beckoned to Shannon. "Come on."

Shannon forced a smile. She got in next to Kellogg and took a deep breath.

"You should sit in the back," he said.

She shook her head slowly.

"I'm fine," she said quietly. He started the car, and she looked out the window.

"Mommy," Kelly giggled from the backseat. "This is like a spy movie."

But Shannon didn't think so.

* * *

><p>"Can we listen to the radio?" asked Kelly, once they were driving at a steady pace on the freeway.<p>

Shannon glanced at Kellogg.

"That's fine," he said, shrugging.

He looked in the rearview mirror. He kept doing so, even as Shannon turned the radio on and fixed it to Kelly's favorite station. Kelly began singing softly under her breath.

"What's wrong?" Shannon asked Kellogg in a low voice.

"I lost sight of Donaghy," he said. "But there's a car about three back that's been tailing us since we merged."

Shannon started to move, but he touched her shoulder.

"Don't look," he hissed. "I'm going to take a—"

For a split, silent, horrifying second, Shannon didn't know what had happened. Kellogg stopped talking, something sticky, red, and lukewarm exploded over the dashboard and splattered her face, glass shattered, and Kelly started screaming.

As if in slow motion, Kellogg's head lowered and banged against the steering wheel with a sickening thud, and the car lurched, jerked out of control by the dead weight of Kellogg's heavy foot. The horn started caterwauling.

Shannon stopped breathing. She couldn't remember a moment in her life when she had ever lost her breath this literally. Kelly's screaming was too loud for her to think—but she snapped out of it quickly.

She unbuckled her seatbelt, cutting her hand on some broken glass.

"Kelly, cover your head!" she ordered, lunging over to try and grab the wheel.

"Mom—"

"_Cover your god damn head!"_ bellowed Shannon, her bloody hands slipping as she tried to swerve the car back into a lane. She almost hit someone, overcorrected, and lost control, her stomach churning as Kellogg's now obviously dead body rolled into her.

She managed to avoid hitting another car, but the station wagon spun violently into the concrete wall that ran alongside the freeway, and the impact threw her from her seat against the glass and hard into Kellogg's body.

Her ears were filled with Kelly's hysterical sobbing and screaming, the screeching of rubber, the mechanic, nails-on-a-chalkboard, gut-wrenching sound of smashed metal, breaking glass and—

-silence.

She smelled fire. She smelled burnt rubber and coppery blood. No—she tasted the blood. She hurt. She couldn't see—she didn't think she could move. It felt like there was an anvil on her chest. Her leg was caught.

It was so quiet. The radio sputtered. She heard screeching tires. She winced. She opened her eyes, forced them open, and her vision swam in blurry, watery pink blood. She coughed violently, thrusting her body to the side.

Why was it so _quiet_?

She heard pounding footsteps. Faraway sirens. Already? Sirens?

Shannon coughed again; she got dizzy, she tried to breath—and she vomited, and recoiled; her face was right next to Kellogg's; her eyes were inches from the bullet hole that had taken him out so quickly.

She lifted her head, trying to breathe.

And then she realized it was quiet because Kelly wasn't screaming anymore. Kelly wasn't making _any_ noise. Kelly—

"Kelly," she croaked desperately, shocked by the frighteningly weak sound of her voice.

"Son of a bitch!" she heard, a faraway voice outside of the mangled car. Faraway, like the sirens. Like the sirens that kept getting quieter, even though they should be getting louder. They were fading. Like her vision. Like her voice.

She struggled.

"Shannon?" she heard the voice yell frantically. "Son of a _bitch_, Shannon? Kelly? _Kellogg_?" Someone beat something against the car. "The leak, it was Donaghy," the voice swore.

Hawkins was trying to get them out.

Shannon coughed again. There was blood on the cup holders. Blood on the middle console. Blood soaking into the backseat. Broken glass and busted up metal everywhere.

"Kelly," she tried again, breaking into tears as she tried to move and every fiber of her being hurt like hell.

Gritting her teeth and bracing herself, she used all of her strength to move towards the back seat, collapsing in the front passenger one and laying back against the broken window. Her head hit concrete, but she could see past, see Kelly sitting in the backseat.

Kelly had her face covered. Kelly was covered in blood and broken glass. Her hands were limp around her head, and her nose and chin were bleeding. She didn't move. She didn't make a sound. She didn't breathe.

"Kelly," gasped Shannon desperately, unable to take her eyes off of her. "_Kelly_," she moaned, her chest aching.

Kelly was dead.

Shannon tilted her head back, her eyes closed, almost unable to feel the tears burning her—unable to feel anything really. She thought it was because there was no possible way for someone to feel this much pain. She wanted to scream. She wanted to shake Kelly until she woke up. She wanted Jethro.

She closed her eyes, suffering, suffocating—she thought it was emotional. She couldn't hear sirens anymore. She could only hear the silence. The lack of Kelly's screams. She could hear Jethro telling her he loved her.

Kelly was dead.

Shannon opened her eyes. She looked at her Kelly again. She couldn't speak. And then, she couldn't close her eyes.

"_Mommy_!"

She swore she heard Kelly giggling softly, right next to her ear.

It was surreal.

It stopped hurting.

She'd always thought it would kill her to lose Kelly.

But that's not what killed her.

Pedro killed her.

Pedro killed _them_.

* * *

><p><em>Yes; we are all aware that "29 February 1991" doesn't actually exist, but in keeping with the NCIS writers' canon, that's the date I am using. <em>

_If you're confused a little by the last few statements, Donaghy was the leak, but Hernandez is the one who shot Agent Kellogg. _

_-Alexandra_


	4. Epilogue

_A/N: This is by far the most difficult time I've ever had writing Gibbs-bar none. _

* * *

><p>Leroy Jethro Gibbs was a shell.<p>

He was a hollow, unbreakable, emotionless, numb, shell.

He didn't feel anything.

He didn't have anything left to feel.

He had denied it. He had denied it for nineteen days in a coma in Germany. He had been angry. He had burned the boat. He had smashed picture frames. He had broken things. He had driven his fist into a concrete wall and broken his fingers. He had bargained. He had sat in the very back pew in the church, far away from the coffins, his head bowed. He had promised his soul to the devil and his life to the Lord if it meant—if it meant—

And he had been depressed. He had been devastated, heartbroken. He had been too drunk to do anything but sit slumped in the basement at home and hold a fist against his forehead and sob until he thought his ribs would shatter from the force of crying and screaming for them.

He had sat for an entire day in front of their newly-laid gravestones, unable to look at the dates and names, feeling all of the stages of grief, feeling everything so acutely that every fiber of his being was raw and sensitive and it hurt to blink. And he had felt it while he stared into the barrel of a pistol and abandoned God and the Devil.

And then he was empty.

He didn't have anything else to feel.

He flew back to Camp Pendleton to resume service, leaving the house still messy and abandoned. He went to NIS to hear the details. He executed a black ops sniper mission in Colombia. Then he was back at Pendleton, and Mike Franks was closing the case.

He was sitting in the cramped office in sweaty, dirty fatigues, a cold look in his dull, hopeless eyes.

"Pedro Hernandez," Franks gnashed his teeth. "The man your wife saw kill a marine."

Franks stood there, grumbling, growling, and unsatisfied; talking.

It was unsatisfying.

He listened to what Franks had to say. He didn't have a damn thing to say, but that the case was over. NIS was calling it cold and filing it away. Unsolved. They couldn't extradite.

"Much as I'd like to, I can't tell you where the bastard's hiding," growled Franks, his face a mask of distaste and controlled rage.

"I didn't ask you to, Special Agent Franks," Gibbs said in a dark, dangerous voice, a stony blue look meeting the eyes of the older man.

Franks glared at the young, broken Marine in front of him.

"I'm gonna go take a leak," he said pointedly, dropping the folder in his hands onto his cluttered desk. He looked a moment longer at the father of the charming little girl he'd known so briefly, and then he purposefully left the room.

He shut the door.

After a moment of calculated, numb silence, Gibbs stood up. He opened the green folder lying abandoned, as Mike Franks had known he would.

He read the location.

He memorized it. He memorized the face.

And then he started to feel again.

It was one consuming, hot, obsessive feeling: hatred. And pushing behind the hatred, controlling it, was Revenge.

He left Mike Franks office.

A week later in Mexico, Leroy Jethro Gibbs put a bullet through the skull of Pedro Hernandez.

He collapsed on his back in the sweltering Mexico summer and slammed his sniper rifle into his chest and he _shouted_.

He shouted because he could feel again.

He thought the pain was going to kill him.

Because Pedro was dead, but nothing changed.

Shannon was dead. Kelly was dead. They were dead.

And _they_ had been everything.

**END**

* * *

><p><em>The dialogue in this is taken directly from "<strong>Hiatus Part 1<strong>". The NCIS storyline is vague at many points about the exact timeline, so I did my best. Gibbs says he joined NIS the same year they changed the name, which was 1992-implying that his mission to Colombia (while still a Marine) took place in 1991, and suggests that he did not join up right away. For the purposes of this story, He spent 19 days in a coma in Germany, came home to DC where Joanne Fielding was taking care of funeral arrangements, spent some time recovering at Quantico, and then returned to his post at Pendleton, where he kept up with Mike Frank's investigation._

_And that's all she wrote, folks._

_-Alexandra_


End file.
